


With Choux in mind

by Neonbat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Castiel, Demisexual Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Drunk John Winchester, Early personality Dean, Eventual Smut, First Time, Gabriel is a dirty old man, Gruff Castiel, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Light Angst, M/M, Mostly Fluff, No underage shannagins don't look at me like that, Teenage Sam, pre-Sabriel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 60,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3967468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has always enjoyed baking. Baking makes him feel calm, collected, it's the only time where he can really express himself. Content to let Gabriel run the business side of things, Castiel enjoys his days of piping cakes, and crafting pastries, that is until an annoying car-mechanic trails in after his little brother one day, and starts to insinuate his way into his quiet life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Buttercream

**Author's Note:**

> Oookay, so this is going to be my first attempt at a multi-chapter fic. I'm ball-parking this at around thirteen chapters, but that's highly subject to change.  
> There is this bakery in my hometown called 'Cass's cupcakes' and every time I drive by I imagined this AU, so I had to write it.  
> For a head's up. There will be eventual explicit content. There will be a minor trying to get an adult's attention. There will also be implied abuse, and alcoholism because John Winchester is just a /amazing/(sarcasm) father.
> 
> Update: This username used to be xinsanedreamerx .Sorry for the confusion!

“Yeah but-“

“No.”

“Cas, we can charge out the ass-“

“No.”

“Ugh. You’re impossible you know that? And it doesn’t taste that bad.” 

Castiel had to stifle the sigh that was sure to expel his soul at the sheer amount of frustration his brother instigated in him. ”Fondant is useless. It is there only for looks. I have no use for something that is so... vapid to the palate,” he grumbled, meticulously piping delicate flowers onto the new batch of lemon cupcakes. 

“Yeah, and? People like pretty, Cas. Pretty sells. Don’t you watch TV?” The elder brother had rooted himself on the edge of the counter, something he knew annoyed Castiel to no end. “I’m just saying, one of those over-blown monstrosity cakes is what all the bride-zillas want. That’s why we never get any wedding business.” He grumbled, fingers sidling along the table to covertly snatch a chocolate cupcake from one of the finished trays.  


A flash of brown shot out,“Ouch! Dammit Cas!” Gabriel hissed, drawing his fingers to his lips after Castiel smacked him with a wooden spoon.

“You know you’re supposed to watch your sugar, Gabriel. You could develop diabetes.” His brother’s low voice droned the same warning he always did when the shorter man tried to sneak more treats than what was allowed.

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to do that? I own a bakery!” The only reply was a dramatic roll of Castiel’s eyes before he turned back to his work.

As the older’s lips parted to muster up a scathing remark regarding the stick his baby brother surely had firmly rooted betwixt his cheeks, the bell above the door chimed. Instantly his cocky grin smoothed into a hospitable one as he wiggled down from the counter, and turned towards the door.

“Hi, welcome to ‘Choux Want Some More?’” Came his usual chime, but his cheer fell flat at the gawky little deer that had entered into the Bakery. The kid looked like someone had just punted his puppy and then spit on him for good measure. 

Nervous green eyes flicked to and fro, taking in the odd combination of minimalist and ‘cozy’ that permeated the bakery. The table and chairs were a uniform white, efficient but joyless. There were pots of bright, colorful flowers on each table, with a little bee drawn on each ceramic pot. Floral table cloths made a valiant effort to stifle the oppressive monotone of the tables, but they were simply not enough to combat the flat grey floors below them. Whoever was advocating for a ‘brighter’ atmosphere was obviously losing.

The green gaze finally swiveled towards the counter, where the décor of the room made abrupt sense. The first man was a cheery sort, and as short as he had been last year, but all bright smiles and crinkles that pinched the corners of whiskey-coloured eyes. The second man hadn’t so much as turned, too busy looming over a tray of spongy looking pale-yellow cupcakes that were piled high with pillowy frosting. His posture was rigid and every so often he would grumble something to the cakes below. The two were stark opposites, even when they were both dressed in similar baking whites, and black slacks. 

“H-hi.” The teen finally managed, stepping closer to look upon the two large cases that boasted some of the brightest, most elaborate looking baked goods he had ever seen. ”I walk past here every day when I go to school. I just thought maybe I should go in.” He added with a thin smile. After the argument he had with his brother yesterday, this was more of a desperate attempt at a peace-offering than it was just idle curiosity.

Now how was Gabriel supposed to resist a scrawny looking skittle that looked like he needed a sandwich and a cup of hot cocoa? The kid looked like he was in the middle of a very awkward growth-phase, where he hovered around ‘normal’ height but at the expense of being stretched too thin. Gabriel always had a weakness for doe-eyes and sad boo-boo faces. He just couldn’t let this one slide.

“You mean you’ve walked by every day and only just now stopped by, Bambi?” Gabriel said through a smile, a chuckle rippling through his chest at the abrupt look of disbelief that wrote itself over the teenager’s face. “Name’s Gabriel, owner, but that’s about it, I’m just here to look pretty and smile. That’s Castiel back there with his lemon minions. Say hi, Cas!” He turned, smirking when the only response was a brief grunt. ”Don’t let his charming personality fool you, this stuff is magic.” A small pout flared across his lips as he touched his midsection with a few considering pokes. “Probably a bit too much magic.” Ah well, the cuddlier the better anyway. “So what’s your name kid? What can I do for ya?”

The poor teen peered through his canopy of chestnut hair as the shop-owner rambled. He’d never seen a man so jaunty before. Sure Dean could get on a tangent every once in a while when he was trying to be annoying, but this man looked perfectly content to hear the sound of his own voice. “Um… My name’s Sam. Sam Winchester.” He managed after a moment, shifting in his hand-me-down sneakers that were nearly too small for him. “Do you have pie?” Sam blurted. Gabriel’s eye drifted upwards at the sheer desperation that had leaked into the kid’s voice. 

“Mm, nope.” Gabriel popped the ‘p’ while he rocked back and forth idly on his heels. “Fraid not, kid. Cupcakes, cakes, puff pastries, and a bunch of French things that only his highness back there can pronounce.” Which earned him another quiet sigh from behind.

Sam’s face fell at the reply, to Gabriel’s dismay. “Oh,” the teen mumbled, deflated. ”Dang… He really likes pie though, and he’s picky so…” he trailed, trying to think if he could get anything else as a suitable ‘olive branch’.  


“Shopping for your boyfriend?” The honey-eyed man couldn’t resist.

Sam sputtered, face flushing a shade so deep Gabriel was afraid he might need to get him an icepack or whip out the smelling salts. ”N-no! For my brother!” he squeaked, shooting an indignant glare through his bangs. “We had a fight, and I just wanted to get something to say sorry.” He added once he had taken a moment to calm down.

“A fight huh? It’s natural to fight with your brother, right Cas?” The question was utterly ignored. “Must have been a pretty big one if you’re breaking out the baked goods.” Gabriel gave a reassuring grin as he leaned against the counter. “That bad?”

He didn’t think it was possible, but the kid seemed to crumple even more. “Yeah. I want to apply for a college out of state, a really good one. I want to be a lawyer. But…” Sam trailed again, lips pulling into a frown. “I know I can get a scholarship if I work really hard but I don’t think he wants me going, and I know our dad is going to flip his shit when he finds out. I’m sure Dean has already told him anyway.” It poured out of him in a tidal wave. By the end of his burst of verbal vomit, he looked at the man behind the counter with wide eyes. ”I- um- Sorry. I didn’t mean to… say that much.”

Another round of chortles sounded from the bakery-owner. “No problem kid, you looked like you were about to pop.” And boy, did he. Gumbi already looked a little less rough around the edges from spewing all that out. From the look of his over-sized jacket, and general demeanor, Gabriel was sure his family must not be that well off. College tuition wasn’t anything to shake a fist at. He should know. He and Cas would be paying off their school debt until they were old and grey. Well, Cas more than he. At least he had opted for a business degree in the end, even if it had taken years of screwing around to get him there.

“Tell you what, kid, what about one of these?” Gabriel shifted so he could dig into the pristine case. He pulled out a golden-brown dessert that had two circular puffs of pastry joined by ganache and buttercream. “It’s a cream-puff-“  


“Religieuse.” Castiel supplied from behind him, only now looking up from his finished work. “It’s called a religieuse, Gabriel.”

“It’s two cream-puffs stuck together with delicious things. Why add a fancy name?” Gabriel irked out reply. Shaking his head, the elder brother turned back to their quietly smiling patron. “Anyway, two cream puffs, lots of fun in the middle, which reminds me of a time in CancUN-OUCH!” He startled, glaring back at the taller man behind him, who was shooting him a withering glare. ”You pinched me!”

“You were about to make a sexual anecdote in front of a minor.” Which really wouldn’t have been the worst thing Gabriel had ever done, especially not with pastries in his hand, but Castiel had had quite enough of the other’s shenanigans for one day.

Grumbling, Gabriel conceded, despite the curious look Sam was giving him. “Cream puffs. Right. Filled with custard-” And God help him if that wasn’t a hard one to let go. “Chocolate-” “Ganache.” “That, with a crispy fluffy pastry shell. Still, has the crunch-cream pay off of pie, but fancier.” His free hand darted out to smack the pastry-chef in the chest before he could start in on a dissertation of how choux-pastries were nothing at all like pie.

Sam cast a dubious look towards the towering balls of custard pastries. Well, it was kind of similar right? He didn’t have the appetite for sugar like his elder brother did, so Sam’s opinion was as good as dirt in this situation. “I guess?” He decided it was better to go home with something rather than nothing. Dean couldn’t really complain when it was a dessert that pretty, right?

Castiel moved to box the order while Sam took out a few crumpled bills to pay. After Gabriel shut the register, he hurried back over to the display cases. “Hey kid, what’s your favorite flavor?” 

“Umm. Peanut butter, I guess? I don’t really eat sweets though.”

“Nonsense, everyone likes cake!” Gabriel grinned as he popped over to the box where Castiel had lowered the religieuse into a white box. Gabriel plunked a peanut-butter maple cupcake that had been a creature of his own craving, which, as it turned out, to be a regular seller, much to Castiel’s chagrin. 

“There we go. Something pretty for that big brother of yours, and something that might contribute to that growth-spurt for you.” Gabriel passed the red-ribbon tied box off to the youth, who regarded the box carefully.

“You didn’t have to.” Sam mumbled, unused to receiving anything that might be in the realm of ‘presents’, which is exactly the reason why Gabriel had done it. The kid looked like he needed a pick-me-up.

Gabriel beamed a bright grin as he began to peel the wrapper off a cupcake he had filched when he had retrieved Sam’s. “Brain food, Gumbi. Eat it while you crack open a book.” He winked, preparing to stuff the maple-drizzled beauty into his mouth before Castiel’s hand descended to pluck it from his finger-tips.

Sam retreated to the door in the wake of Gabriel’s anguished groans, a smile hovering over his lips as he waved a brief goodbye. “Thanks!” The bell chimed again as the flannel-draped teen retreated into the dimming light of the cool spring evening.


	2. Meringue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean appears and Cas automatically doesn't like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, chapter two up~ So far it looks like I'm going to try to get a chapter out every week or two pending my Uni work load. Thanks for all that are still reading! Really appreciate the comments and any feedback.  
> Also thanks to my disgruntled roommate for betaing ; D

His hand carefully guided the polished metal cake stand about as he piped blush pink butter cream into delicate petals. Castiel stood bent over his work, using as much concentration and consideration as one might handle volatile chemicals in a lab. The soft petals formed petite rosettes along the two-tiered cake, an ombre between pink and red. This was, to date, his largest commission for decorated cakes, and he loathed to be anything less than perfect. 

“Making a cake for an old lady’s social?” The fracture of silence threatened to wobble his hand. Scowling, the pâtissier glared over his work station to Gabriel’s usual perch at the end of the counter. As if his posterior on the counter was sanitary. Castiel itched to set down his piping bag and attack the surface with the bottle of sanitizing spray he kept under his work station.

“It’s for a girl’s ‘Sweet Sixteen’,” he grumbled, thinking it slightly moronic that the family had ordered a total of six different cakes, each with a different color and style of flower. ‘A Girl in Bloom’ was the theme. It had taken all the self-control within him not to walk off from the consultation at that one.

A low whistle sounded from the shorter man’s lips as he wiggled, kicking his legs a little farther onto the counter. “All of that for a brat’s birthday party? Five bucks she hates them and wants some vampire with douche hair or a flaming bird on it.” A glimmer light itself within his amber eyes. ”What if we put-” The idea died on his lips in the wake of his sibling’s eyes trying to set him aflame over the top of the garishly decorated rosette cake.

“You are absolutely no fun, Castiel. Remember what mom said to you when you were younger. One day, your face is going to get stuck that way.” The ‘But I think it already has’ was uttered under his breath as Gabriel abandoned the hope of finding a comfortable position than on the flat surface. “Watch the storefront, will you? I’m going to get my book.” Reading wasn’t really one of his favorite past-times, but since Anna had turned him onto some of her Harlequin romances, he couldn't help himself. He had made a game of taking a shot (marshmallow vodka, of course) every time the words ‘goddess’ or ‘manhood’ came up, and by the end of three chapters he was usually about to puke into his shoes. 

A brief look of panic flared through Castiel’s watery blue eyes once the words had finally sunk in, but by that time, Gabriel had already sauntered off into the back. He hated being left in charge of the storefront. Gabriel knew he didn’t handle it well. As long as customers knew what they wanted, and didn't expect ‘small-talk’, he fared alright, but the social ones. . .

He had just begun piping his cake once again when he heard the door bells chime, and a Pavlovian knot of dread formed in his stomach at the sound. He muttered a petulant “Welcome”and finished off his petal before he bothered to look up.

“Hi! Castiel, right? I remembered because it’s a wei- Er, interesting name.” It was the kid from a few days ago, a kid that had remembered his name, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the other’s in turn.

Castiel’s eyes tracked the movement of a second man behind of the teen as he gave a minute bob of his head in reply. “Smells like sugar. My favorite.” The man chuckled, a sound that most would find pleasing, but it only made a bubble of irritation replace the knot. The man was covered in what Castiel could only assume to be some kind of oil. He could smell it over the saccharine aroma of the room, thick and out of place. Even his tousled coffee hair had hints of oil, most likely from his grubby hands. 

His fingers twitched on the piping bag, and he watched in abject dread as the two approached the counter. 

“See? Bet you never even noticed this place was here before.” Sam said over to his slightly taller sibling as they approached the counter. With a careless flick of his head, he tossed his too-long bangs over his forehead to peer into the cases. 

Rolling his eyes, the older sibling stepped forehead, hands –mercifully- tucked into his pockets. “Honestly? Thought this place was some kind of old-people thing, or, you know, vacant.” He chuckled, never mind that the comment made Castiel’s lips turn down in obvious displeasure. Old people thing? Vacant? It was true the storefront wasn’t exactly decorated (not that Gabriel hadn’t been trying), but the name was clear enough and the windows weren’t that tinted.

Determined not to rise to the man’s offhanded insult, Castiel returned to his piping with a vengeance, arching delicate lines of rosy frosting along the side of the cake.

“Hey there, Gumbi!” Gabriel’s returned with a flourish, brandishing his mommy-porn book with a devil-may-care grin. “Oh, who’s your friend? No, wait, let me guess, your brother?” He grinned triumphantly as Sam gave a small bob of his head. “Howdy there, tall, slick, and sticky.” 

For a moment, Castiel was sure Gabriel had gone over the line, but just about when he made to play damage control, the man burst out into a volley of fresh chuckles.

“Ah yeah, sorry about that, on my lunch break from the shop.” He looked down at himself with a careless shrug, not seeming to mind the state of his mussed up grey T, or his denims. “Name’s Dean Winchester. Was telling Sammy here that I didn’t even know this town had a bakery. You guys are kind of shit at branding you know?” He grinned, glancing back towards the shop window as if to prove a point.

An exasperated line formed over Gabriel’s perpetual smirk, “Believe me I know, but Stalin over there thinks ‘The name speaks for itself’. He takes down whatever I put up, so I just gave in.” Granted, most of the things he had put up in his last few attempts had purely been to get a rise out of his dear baby brother. Even he could admit the fornicating taxidermy Chipmunks on top of a cake had gone a bit far though. The two old crones that had come in to ream them out for ‘indecency’ had almost deafened them.

Dean’s eyes turned towards Castiel, eyeing the lavish cake dubiously. ”Huh…would think someone that made such a frilly cake would- I dunno, put doilies on the windows or put those little window-stickers up at least.” His grin never faltered, even when Castiel cast a disparaging glare in his direction.

“Don’t let Magic Fingers fool you. He’s as dry as week-old biscotti.” From the looks he was receiving from the other pair of siblings, Gabriel ventured that they didn’t have a clue what biscotti even was. Cute.

“Anyway, what can I get ya? Doesn’t look like you’re about to have a knock down drag out, so I’m guessing our magic cream-puff worked?” Sam went still in front of the case, his face flaring the same shade of rose it had the last time Gabriel had riled him up. He hadn’t even meant to this time!

Casting a side-glance at Dean, Sam flashed a weak smile and shuffled a little farther off. He could tell by the quiet glimmer in Dean’s eyes that his older brother didn’t enjoy the fact he had been chatting up the bakery-guys about ‘family stuff’. Dean was also tight-tipped about what happened at home, not that Sam particularly blamed him. No one was more ashamed than he was.

“Sam says you don’t make pie? What’s up with that? Pie is amazing.” Dean glossed over the mention of the fight with practiced ease and another white-toothed grin. “Takes a hell-of-a lot less time to make then that fancy fairy cake you’re over there making too.” He grimaced, the beautiful blooming butter cream petals lost on him with its lack of practically. Who cared what the stuff looked like as long as it tasted good?

“Anyone can throw ingredients into a pie shell. It’s idiot-proof. I don’t make things five-year-olds can accomplish.” Castiel looked up from his near-finished cake, pale pink lips set at a fine line. “I make art. Not ‘comfort food’.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean turned back to the cases and pointed at a couple of ‘Cream filled things’ and a ‘lemon thing’, in Gabriel’s ever-descriptive explanations. As he fished out his wallet, Dean watched as Castiel’s hands guided another rosette bloom to take form on the picture-perfect cake. He had to admit, the guy had skills, even if he was a bit of a weirdo. Good looking though, all intense blues, and wild dark hair held back by a black band that made the locks fan about his head. 

“Magic fingers, huh? I can see that.” Dean tossed a wink over the counter in Castiel’s direction as he accepted his change and the box of confections. “I’m sure with fingers like that you can make some ‘art’ out of pie if you tried.” For some reason, the grin and the wink that was aimed his way made Castiel feel very, very uncomfortable.

Castiel’s hand slipped, smearing the last rosette into oblivion. The door chimed, and the Winchesters left, leaving an amused Gabriel, and a deeply flustered Castiel in their wake.


	3. Fondant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine grocery trip ends with Castiel covered in juice, and considering the ramifications of pie-related homicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! University is kind of kicking my tushy, and the tushy of my beta-reader. But good news, I already have the next chapter typed up, just going to revise it a bit, so it'll come along within the next few days.  
> Also, super big thank you for all leaving comments, they really give me a confidence boost for this being my first multi-chapter fic. Seriously, much love.

Castiel stared, his deep blue’s narrowed in thought. He stood in the middle of the produce isle, shopping basket clutched in his hand like a life-line. The sea of vegetables in front of him did nothing but taunt him with their diversity and possibilities. He cursed Gabriel under his breath for the fifth time since he had stepped into the grocery store thirty minutes ago. His brother knew better than to send him here, a place where he was virtually useless. Of course, if it was up to Gabriel, they would just live on sweets, and it was only due to Castiel’s clumsy guided hand that they ingested anything vaguely healthy.

 His right hand extended to tentatively pick up a tomato, eyes boring down upon the plump red fruit with thinly veiled accusation. This is why he hated ‘cooking’. There were too many variables, too many ingredients, too little precision. A cake was a work of science, and while food could be, he had often heard the best food was ‘from the heart’, whatever that meant. He had no interested in molecular gastronomy, despite his love of precision baking. All he wanted was to cook a meal that he didn’t burn, and Gabriel didn’t add sugar to.

“Intimidating a tomato?” The sudden voice from behind made him startle, and the tomato fell to the floor, bursting off-red juice onto the floor, and his shoes.

He turned, his glare now swiveling to the now-snickering form of Dean Winchester that had snuck up behind him. Of course, the man was streaked in motor oil and smelled like gasoline. It was disgusting, they were in a _grocery_ store for goodness sake.

“Is there a reason why you snuck up behind me?” He deadpanned, lips pressed in such a way that Dean immediately thought ‘bitch face’, which only deepened his chuckles. Sam would appreciate that he had some competition for Dean’s ‘Best bitch face’ award now.

“Sorry man, didn’t think you were the jumpy type.” Dean replied with a hundred-watt grin, “You just looked real intense on that tomato.” Hell, the trench-coated (and who wore a trench coat these days anyway?) man had looked like he was about to punch the fruit for insulting his mother.

Despite his attempt to stifle it down, Castiel felt his cheeks color.” I… was merely trying to discern what I would be purchasing for dinner. That is all.” He sniffed dismissively, sidling a step away from the wet mess on the ugly tiles.

Dean smirked, glancing at Castiel’s near barren shopping basket.  “I can see that’s going great.” The baker’s blush deepened, much to Dean’s delight. If you could get past the ‘Get away from me, you ant’ look on the guy’s face, he was pretty attractive, even in his tax-accountant looking clothing. Those professional baking clothes had done a lot more for the guy than the shapeless coat and suit he was wearing now.

Frown now firmly in place, Castiel peered into Dean’s basket, ready to shoot off a mouthy reply at the Winchester’s choice of food. He had expected a plethora of snack-food items and frozen items, but the basket full of semi-decent food stuffs gave him pause. Lettuce, buns, packaged red meat, even salad dressing? Some things seemed in the vein of what he expected of the mechanic, but there was more greenery than he had expected.

Noticing the peculiar man’s eyes straying, Dean shifted on his booted feet with an airy chuckle of embarrassment. “Sammy likes all the rabbit food. What teenager likes salad over French fries, I dunno, sometimes I think he’s a pod-person.”

“Pod... person?” came Castiel’s bewildered reply. “Is that a reference?”

“Man, you must not get out much do ya, Strawberry Shortcake?” This at least was met with a soft huff of indignation. Well, of course he got _that_ reference.

“For your information, my job takes a considerable amount of dedication. So no, I do not, in fact, ‘get out much.’” Castiel replied moodily, shifting his basket from his right hand to his left to ease the pressure on his fingers.

The mechanic suppressed another volley of chuckles (because he did _not_ giggle) at the shorter man’s resentment. Deciding it was in his best interest to let up on the awkward turtle, Dean turned back towards the vegetable display and began selecting a few tomatoes of his own, as well as some cucumbers for Sammy’s disgusting salad. “So what’s on the menu?” He asked while he twisted up the green bag full of produce.

“I… am not sure.” Castiel replied with a deepening grin. “Gabriel dislikes everything in this isle, and I am not fond of ‘Mac n Cheese’ which I am quite sure he would live off of if left to his own devices.” Wow, that had been the longest sentence Dean had heard the man utter yet.

“No girlfriend between the two of you to cook then eh?” His brow gave a small waggle. Dean didn’t expect this offhanded comment to ignite another flush of red across Castiel’s cheeks.

 Diverting his eyes from anywhere but the man in front of him, Castiel decided to take interest in a display of avocados. “No. And, that is a very sexist, heteronormative thing to say, Mr. Winchester.” The tone came out closer to ‘sulking’ than Castiel was comfortable with. He hated when strangers hinted at things like this. Just like his mother. ‘When are you going to settle with a nice girl?’, 'Met anyone yet?’, ‘The neighbor girl. You remember Hannah? She’s always asking after you. .maybe you should-‘And other ridiculous comments like that. He couldn’t make her, or any of his siblings understand, that he just wasn’t interested in anyone like that. Or at least, he didn’t think he was. Sometimes he felt a certain longing to be with someone he grew close enough to, but his awkward mannerisms and personality usually derailed any relationship that even tip-toed into that territory.

Now it was Dean’s turn to stare. “Hetero… what?”

A withering sigh escaped Castiel’s lips.”Never mind. I take it then, that your girlfriend cooks?” He inquired, assuming from Dean’s comment that he must have someone to bring it up.

“Oh, um, no. I-uh. I cook.” Dean replied with a soft cough, his lips pressing into a line as his tongue slid along the plump flesh, a curious gesture that caught Castiel momentarily off guard.

“You… cook?” That seemed far-fetched, considering Castiel’s assumption that the man was quite into the role of being stereotypicaly ‘Macho’. Flannel, jeans, boots, and covered in motor oil, the only thing missing would be a football trophy and tales of his varsity days.

A faint pout formed over those curiously plush lips. ”Yeah, so what? Man can’t cook?” Dean shot back, obviously defensive in the wake of Castiel’s ‘tone’.”Nothin’ fancy. Just simple stuff, burgers, spaghetti and stuff. Not like I’m a freaking _pastry chef_.” He shot the shorter man a pointed look.

Castiel met his glare with one of his own. “Baking and cooking are different.” Not that you could tell that to the general populace who lumped it all together. Making pot-roast was worlds away from making a delicate _mille-feuille_ _._

Rolling his eyes, Dean decided to concede, less the man before him explode from all the indignation that he was currently broadcasting. “Fine, whatever you say Rachel Ray.” Ah, there it was, another look of complete bewilderment. Much better than the man glaring at him. “Better get going, Sammy will be home from school soon.” Dean had only taken a few steps away when he turned back around and flashed a cheeky smile. “About the pie thing. You should really consider it. What’s the difference between those frilly lookin tarts and a good pie anyway?”

Castiel didn’t understand the rush of annoyance Dean’s parting words left him with. What was it about the grubby mechanic that dug under his skin? He wasn’t usually so prone to emotional outbursts, not after years of weathering his sibling’s tomfoolery, but a minute with Dean Winchester and Castiel felt like throttling the man.

Disgruntled, Castiel swiveled around to try and make a dignified retreat. His foot connected with the splattered tomato upon the floor and sent him sprawling in a heap of limbs and ill-fitting fabric. Scowling, he uttered a gravely “Winchester.” As he tried to peel himself up off the juice-slicked tile, and bat away do-gooders that had witnessed the fall. Maybe Castiel would make the pie just to throw it at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to follow my tumblr http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ I will post approximations and things pertaining to this fic or others I'm thinking about doing occasionally.


	4. Ganache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel tries, and tries again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you guys I'd get this out quicker than a week <3\. Things are going to start picking up after this, prepare for turbulence.

‘ _Caramelized pears… Apples too redundant. Lemon zest.’_ Pictures of brown syrupy fruits filtered through his mind’s eyes as he leaned over the cold metal prep table, pouring over the new menu for the fall season. _‘Pumpkin shortbread with a spiced Ganache… Too bold?’_ He rubbed the back of his neck with a frown, thinking, and not for the first time, that Gabriel had erred when he set up shop in such an unassuming town. Had they moved to a bigger city, perhaps he could be more daring with his menus, as it was, little old ladies and teenagers, didn’t seem to enjoy bold flavor combinations like savory spins on popular confections. Maybe something simple then.

“I’m sure with fingers like that, you can make some ‘art’ out of pie if you tried.” The words from a few weeks prior resurface along with a sliver of irritation. Pie. It was so Americana. You could get it at a diner, the kind of places that served ‘patty melts’ and things on ‘shingles’, whatever those were. Not that he had ever frequented many diners in his lifetime, but he imagined them to be greasy, filmy places. Nothing that came from them belonged in his cases.

Still. It might be interesting to see what he could do with something so simple. He had managed to rework something as drab as a vanilla cupcake into something a little more elegant with the addition of vanilla beans and fresh bourbon cream icing. Those were his top sellers now. Making ‘art’ out of a pie shouldn’t be difficult.

Unbeknownst to him, his elder brother had been observing the faint flickers of emotions filter across his usually stoic face for the past two minutes. “You concentrate anymore and you might explode, Bumbles,” Gabriel snickered, pulling out an old nickname from his times as a teen, where he had foolishly tried to start up a bee-keeping club in high school. The children had called him any variation of bee-names combined with crude terms until he had graduated.

“That’s highly unlikely,” Castiel grumbled a moody reply as he straightened, grimacing as his back creaked from the slouched position he had occupied for the past three hours. He had been a bit lax on his yoga practice lately in anticipation for the seasonal change.

As Gabriel began to mill about, finishing the night’s preparation for the day ahead of him, Castiel lapsed back into silence.  About the time Gabriel thinks Castiel’s forehead crease is going to cave in entirely, the younger male sucked in a small breath, a dead give-away to the older male that Cas is about to ask something that makes him uncomfortable.

“Have you ever made a pie?” Castiel blurted, owlish gaze directed at the older man who had taken roost near the sink. A moment of silence stretched as Gabriel stared back with uncharacteristic surprise. Out of everything Gabriel had thought Castiel was going to ask, that had been in the bottom three. He had expected a sex talk over the little awkward bee caving under the greasy Winchester’s insistence. The one and only ‘sex talk’ Castiel had ever gotten as a child had been the travesty of a speech his parents customarily drug out at each child’s twelfth birthday. Since Castiel’s inducting into ‘I’m the byproduct of shitty parenting’, Gabriel and the rest of the clan hadn’t been able to set the record straight yet. Not that Gabriel even thought the younger man even-, well if anyone asked him, Gabriel would say Castiel could reproducing by budding.

“I mean the sweet kind, of course, not the . . . slang for pizza.” Castiel murmured after the silence continued to stretch, a faint flush of color spreading over his pale olive skin.

Jolted from his momentary lapse down awkward-memory-lane, Gabriel began to snicker. “Really Cas? Should I go rent a tux and begin writing up a speech? I didn’t even get to do my intimidating older-brother speech,” he teased, his delight doubling in the wake of the look of realization blooming over Castiel’s confused face.

Wrestling between being angry, and mortified, the pâtissier began to hurriedly gather up his notebook and stuff it into the beige satchel at the side of the table. “I don’t understand what you’re implying, _Gabriel-_ ” Somehow he made the name sound derogatory. “-but I was merely curious to add something simple in hopes of attracting the patrons with a less refined palate.  Not whatever you were thinking!” He scowled, refusing to admit that he knew explicitly what Gabriel had been implying. “ _Good night._ ” Castiel took off towards the door, his over coat billowing about him sanctimoniously, which Gabriel hadn’t even known coats could _do_.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dammit.” The pie in the middle of his stainless steel island was mocking him. It _looked_ perfect, but even without cutting into it, Castiel knew something was off. The smell wasn’t unpleasant, but it didn’t incite his palate to desire. He wasn’t compelled towards it. Molten cerise bubbled from breaks in the carefully laid lattice of the crust, decadent in color and thickness. The fluting of the crust was flawless, and the crust had taken on a brilliant shade of golden brown. But something was still wrong with it.

Resigned, he cut into his travesty, and plated the piece, watching with a vague sense of disgust as the visually pleasing slice spread its cherry contents like flowing lava. Plucking up a fork, he cut into the first pie he had ever made, placing a fat, gooey cherry and a liberal amount of crust upon the prongs. The texture of the crust was off, he could tell that just with his fork. He had made it too thin, to airy, which would have been fine if not for the dense, luscious filling. The combination wasn’t desirable. It didn’t make for cohesion when it settled on the tongue. As he placed the bite past his lips, he noted that he had also strayed with the filling. It was too much. More suited to be nestled within a much larger bite of pastry, a hidden treasure instead of a bat that bludgeoned the tongue into submission. It was too heavy-handed and lacking in the same bite.

He dumped the remains of his slice, and the rest of the pie, into the trashcan and began to drag out more ingredients. Castiel wouldn’t be beaten by the likes of a cherry pie.

 

* * *

 

“You look like hell. No. Scratch that. You look like if hell went on a bender, slept with a troll, then got said troll pregnant. So, in summary, what the hell, Cas?” Gabriel’s incessant talking wasn’t doing anything to ease the headache building behind his eyes. As a baker, Castiel was used to getting very little sleep and stealing naps whenever he could, but he found his body’s ability to adapt to ‘all nighters’ like they had a few years back, was sorely lacking. He felt quite a bit like what his dear brother had described.

He grumbled, “Must you be so loud?”, as he did up the buttons of his pristinely white double breasted coat. Gabriel made an exaggerated opening of his mouth, priming for another volley of verbal torture. “I stayed up all night; does that answer your question?” Castiel snapped, setting various bowls and mixing utensils out upon the table with a little more force than necessary.

Gabriel’s brows made a break for his hairline. “Gee Cas, I was kidding before, but um, _is_ there someone I should be threatening with fisticuffs?” He had never known Castiel to be so irresponsible to not allow for ‘proper rest’. Something about adequate functioning and more vaguely Spock-like explanations usually followed every time Gabriel invited the younger out for drinks. Castiel just didn’t do reckless things with his person, aside from his weird fixation on bees.

Castiel was too tired to even let Gabriel’s earnest inquiry work him into embarrassment. “No, Gabriel, there isn’t. The reason isn’t of import.” And despite Gabriel’s continued pokes, prods, bribes, and childish whining, Castiel kept his lips tighter than a nun’s legs (Gabriel’s description half way through the work day).

After two aspirins, and a cup or three of coffee, Castiel set back to work once he returned to his apartment at the end of the day, quietly thankful that he had talked Gabriel into side-by-side apartments, rather than the double-occupancy Gabriel had advocated for. He didn’t want his brother’s curiosity to disrupt him while he worked, and more importantly, failed.  Working, baking pies at night, and scowling, became his process for four days, until he stomped into _Choux Want Some More?_ with an armful of groceries, and a basket from the farmer’s market filled to the brim with glistening cherries. Raccoon-eyed and jittery from four days of atypical caffeine abuse, he poured into his new creation with all the zealous of a mad scientist. Only that his monster was a delicate work of France-meets-Americana. Castiel had stopped trying to imitate an American staple two days ago, and since then, he had run with the idea on a twist of a French classic, cherry _clafouti._ It was a work of soft custard cream combined with faintly tart cherries stewed with a dash of turbinado sugar. A splash of brandy and a syrup made with the pits of the cherries went into the mix, along with the delicate, crispy crust he had struggled with days before. A fluffy mound of vanilla brandy whip cream would settle on each served slice, bright against the ruddy red of the faux-clafouti filling.

As he set the cooled dessert into the display case with his other creations, he ignored the steady look of surprise his brother had been sporting for the past hour.  Satisfied, Castiel turned his back to Gabriel’s gawking, and began working on the decorations for the order of key-lime cupcakes for something the customer had called a ‘Cougar’s social’. At no point during the day did he cast a glance over his shoulder towards the door, hopeful that site of oil-slicked denim of growing familiarity would come sauntering through the door. He did, however, stay in the front a little longer than usual. Gabriel showed an unusual amount of restraint as he watched his youngest sibling throughout the day, a small smile curling his thin lips. At the end of the day, he gave Castiel a wordless slap on his shoulder, and a gentle squeeze, much to Castiel’s irritation. For the next two weeks, there was a wordless truce, Gabriel staying blessedly silent every time Castiel made a new pie once the prior sold, and Castiel wouldn’t explain his reasoning for making it.

Castiel was not, and would never admit to being, disappointed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Add me on tumblr at http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ for updates and projections~


	5. Cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel learns more about the Winchester brothers, and Castiel dearly wants to curl up and die behind the counter when Dean finally comes back into the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goodness, I am sooo sorry it took forever! I got sick, then my beta reader got sick, and then my Uni-work took an insane turn. Anyway, nice long chapter for you guys. As a heads-up, the chapters will probably be this long from now on now that I've kind of hit my comfort zone writing.  
> Also, thanks to every who comments because I dearly love them<3 I am so self-conscious over this fic that the comments give me the confidence boost to continue!  
> As always, thanks for reading~ Also, Mainly Dean and Cas next chapter~

Fat drops of rain plastered chestnut hair to his forehead, despite the precautionary ball-cap tugged over his skull. A small jerk at the end of his arm urged him forward, and with another puffing breath, Gabriel surged on. He hated jogging. He hated jogging in the rain even more. An excited yip at the end of the neon green leash tugged at the corners of his lips, and he felt the waves of irritation smooth into reluctant indulgence. Butterscotch always knew how to get what he wanted, a flash of those big-browns and a lopsided puppy kiss and Gabriel was as good as buttered.

The rain started to relent as Gabriel pulled off into the local park for the last leg of their jog. “Gimme a minute Butterscotch, or else you’re going to have to drag me.” He wheezed slowly to a halt and unceremoniously plopped himself down onto a park bench. His golden retriever contented himself to snuffling around the bench, lapping up park-leavings in the forms of discarded half eaten hot dog buns and unidentifiable refuse. Gabriel was sure he’d regret this lapse in good pet-parenting when he was picking up off-colored doggy-doos with a thin plastic bag, but that was a problem for the future.

A sharp bark startled him out of his exercise induced lethargy. Groaning, he sat up, peeling his upper body up off the back of the bench with all the grace of a slug. “Whaaat?” he whined, panning this way and that for the source of Butterscotch’s excitement. Across the clover scattered field, a huddled figure sat underneath one of the old oak trees, looking small and miserable. The mop of brown hair and the sodden jacket immediately struck Gabriel as familiar.

“Come on Butter-buns…” Gabriel urged, frowning as he took to his feet and crossed the squelching field.

“Gumbi?”

The youth tensed, arms unfurling mechanically from their vice about his knees as if the movement caused discomfort. Peering up through damp brown strands, two hazel eyes emerged, reddened and tired. “Mr. Gabriel?” Sam winced at the sound of his own voice, reedy from his long hours seated in the rain.

 The little piteous peep out of the teen was all it took for Butterscotch to surge forward, tugging the leash from Gabriel’s hand, and launching himself towards Sam. The mass of golden colored fur collided into the lanky teen, sending them both sprawling under the intensity of Butterscotch’s slobbering assault.

“Butterscotch stop that! You huge… idiot!” Trying to pull the sentient tongue with a dog-body attached back was a futile effort. The dog was almost as big as Gabriel was. “Not everyone enjoys bruised ribs and dog-spit!!”

Helpless under Butterscotch’s affection, Sam grinned, running his fingers through the retriever’s silky hair while he flopped his ears back and forth. Within seconds, every inch of his face had a detailed encounter with the dog’s tongue; he couldn’t help but laugh under the onslaught. “Hey buddy! You’re friendly, aren’t you?” the teen crooned, finally lulling the golden retriever into a calmer state with a few coos and head pats.

“Yeah, friendly, that’s one word for it. Violently affectionate is another.” Gabriel smirked, abandoning trying to get the two-year old retriever away from the teen now that it looked like Sam actually liked dogs.

The kid must have been out here for ages. Gabriel gave Sam a going-over while he was distracted with the dog, and the results unsettled him. Sam was soaked through, his jeans, shirt, and jacket clinging to him with the same sodden melancholy as his hair. His eyes looked puffy and blood-shot, a mixture of stress and sleeplessness. He looked like a puppy someone had left outside all night.

“What’s goin’ on, kid? Hell of a place to camp out.” He blurted, never once thinking that maybe a direct approach wasn’t his most stellar option. Gabriel knew how to handle _kids_ , kids were easy! But teenagers? They took all the rules and crushed them with all their rampant emotions and hormones. Like _Mogwais_ after midnight, they transformed from something cute and innocent into a living nightmare once puberty hit.

The teen’s hand stilled briefly on Butterscotch’s head, and the small smile that had quirked his lips waned into a guarded line. “N-no reason, just another stupid fight.” An obvious lie, Gabriel had noticed the youth’s knack for lying through his teeth was about as practiced as Castiel’s ‘customer’ voice, both left a lot to be desired.

Gabriel plopped down onto the water-logged grass, never mind he was sure to have a noticeable wet spot the shape of his butt when he got up. Sacrifices had to be made in these situations, his dignity could take another for the team. “Uh-huh. You know I might be toeing middle-aged but I’m not senile.” He smirked, cutting his glimmering eyes towards Sam with a reassuring grin. “Come on, look at Butterbuns here, he’s desperate to know.” He gestured towards the retriever, who was almost quivering from the physical need for Sam to continue to pet him.

“Well…” Sam frowned, hand beginning to move once more, much to the canine’s relief. He began to relax as the dog melted into his lap, smile slowly returning as Butterscotch nuzzled his stomach affectionately. “It was kind of more than just a fight. My dad and Dean really got into it.” Sucking in a deep breath, Sam aimed a wavering grin towards Gabriel. “Dean gets real mad when Dad let’s things slip. He, uh, he drinks a lot, you know. Ends up saying all kinds of things.” Flinching, he broke the gaze and returned his attention to Butterscotch with renewed intensity. “Our dad thinks that, um, I’m not his kid.” His smile turned down right fragile then, and an uncomfortable prickling sensation gripped Gabriel’s stomach. “When he drinks, he always ends up screaming that our mom cheated on him or something. Who knows if it’s true or not. My mom died when she had me. Hemorrhage or something.” By the way Sam said ‘or something’, Gabriel could guess there was little reason for his ambiguity. The fact weighed on the teen’s mind like a cancer, and the guilt was laced in his voice like poison. 

Shaking off the momentary lapse into melancholy, the teen resolutely plowed ahead. “Anyway, last night was worse than it usually is. Dean came home early before I could calm Dad down and it just kind of snowballed.” He stilled, finger tips grazing through the dog’s damp gold hair with meditative intensity. After a moment, he seemed to recover enough to face Gabriel, panic blooming in his eyes. ”Don’t get me wrong or anything! He doesn’t, like, beat me or anything!” Not that Gabriel would believe that either, but the look Sam was giving him was enough to keep him quiet. “I figure I only have a little more time till I leave for school right?” He forced a smile, determined to smother the brief fire that had lit itself in Gabriel’s eyes. Sam knew that look. It was the look of an adult who was _determined_. Determined to intervene and cause all sorts of problems. ‘Uncle’ Bobby got that look a lot, and so did a few of the other adults around town. One of those looks had almost cost Dean and him everything when they were teens, and it was only by Dean’s quick wit that they had avoided Social services. It was too much of a risk for them to get taken away from their dad. They could have been separated, or been placed in a home even _worse_. None of their family’s friends had been considered ‘fit’ to put the boys under their care, and without that option, Dean had vowed they would just stick it out. Ever since then, his older brother had fulfilled the role their father John had long checked out of.

 “Right.” Gabriel dimly echoed, trying to force a reassuring grin onto his own face, less Sam shut down on him. What he had said didn’t sit well with Gabriel. Hell, he knew the kid must have some issues or another. Sam looked like he should be having a time in high school. He was filling out already in his later teen years, all long limbs, and budding good looks. The way he carried himself, however, was the complete opposite of what _should_ have been. It was like the juvenile tried to fold in on himself and disappear into the background, which would be hilarious for someone so lanky and long if it wasn’t so disheartening. “So how’d you end up here? You look like you’ve been out here long enough to grow mushrooms.”

“I couldn’t take all the yelling so I just took off.” Sam replied with a soft sigh, “I didn’t bring my cell or anything. Dean’s probably about to freak.” Not that it made him want to go home. He had said a few things he was sure their dad was apt to remember even in his drunken stupor, and Sam wasn’t very eager to go home and face _that_ music. Best to avoid the house for as long as possible. It wasn’t like Dean had never disappeared before either, Sam felt he was owed at least one.

Lips pursing, Gabriel wiggled in the dewy grass as if he was trying to shed the unpleasantness of the conversation. “Well how about this, why don’t you walk with me and Butterscotch while I drop him at doggy-day care, and then head to the shop with me? Castiel should be setting stuff up, and we can get some- I dunno, tea or something into you.” Gabriel resolutely ignored the smirk that passed over Sam’s lips at the mention of a dog day-care. As if the short male would leave his poor Butterbuns in the apartment all day by himself. Gabriel could barely stand that, like hell if he would subject his dog to boredom too!

It was a testament to how much Sam really didn’t relish the idea of going home that he readily agreed. He didn’t find Gabriel unpleasant, but he knew Dean wouldn’t be very keen on him paling around with someone he barely knew, and that was considerably older than he was. The words ‘Mother hen’ had been uttered from Sam’s lips more times than he could count when it came to his elder brother, who was determined to be both mother, and father, to his younger sibling.

“Maybe coffee. I don’t think tea is going to do it after the night I’ve had.” The young man replied with a muted grin, the dedication that he put into trying to appear ‘fine’ making another flutter of discomfort in Gabriel’s stomach. Gabriel disliked getting to know people for this reason. People’s _stories_! Especially kids these days. He could barely tolerate it on the news without consoling himself in a pile of skittles, but it was so much harder to ignore face to face. No part of him understood how people could _suck_ so hard as to abuse their kids. They were innocent little balls of energy and wonder, that slowly wilted and flattened under the tide of the world, their parents shouldn’t contribute to that.

“Sure kid.” Gabriel beamed. If Sam could act ‘fine’, so could he.

 

* * *

 

_Sweet, sweet memories you gave-a me_

_You can't beat the memories you gave-a me_

The music filled the early morning stillness, notes bouncing from the stainless steel instruments and counters. His hands dipped into the ice bath without reserve, too practiced to flinch or squirm in discomfort. Castiel’s lips moved to the beginning of the song, contented in his solitary work as he began the preparations for a large order of _pain au chocolat_. It was times like these that he truly enjoyed his job when everything was still and practiced. His brother wasn’t there to distract, and there were no customers to tug at his awareness. There was only him, his hands, and the music.

_Take one fresh and tender kiss  
Add one stolen night of bliss_

_  
_ Gabriel always made fun of his tendency to favor older music, music- he'd smirk, even their parents thought too old- fashion. Castiel wasn’t one for modern music, especially the cheery, adrenaline injected noise his brother favored. He had gotten over trying to explain himself to others, or make them understand; he knew he wasn’t like others his age, who were still going out at nights drinking, having adventures, and making stories before settling into adulthood. It didn’t bother him anymore, and he told himself that often enough that he believed it.

His hands smoothed over the chilled dough, pressing it into a rough rectangle before he began to roll it out. Croissants were like meditation to him, he had done so many in his baking practice. Roll, flip, roll, fold, wrap, chill, and roll some more. The biting cold of the chilled butter and dough made his fingers yellow and stiff after a few dozen, but he continued on, dipping his hands into the ice bath on his right every time his hands began to warm from movement.

_One girl, one boy  
Some grief, some joy_

_Memories are made of this_

_Don't forget a small moonbeam_  
Fold in lightly with a dream  
Your lips and mine  
Two sips of wine

_Memories are made of this_

The chime of the door was lost in the ebb and flow of the music. Gabriel and Sam walked in, chatting away about dog-day-care. Sam conceded he would rather be left in a place with a pool and mid-day snacks over sitting dejectedly on the couch all day as well. Gabriel took that as a point in favor of him not seeming like a crazy-dog-lady and more like a respectable, forward thinking dog parent.

“See? I told you I wasn’t being nuts.” Gabriel preened, lips curling into a frustrated frown as the teen’s focus shifted from his gloating towards the back room. “What?”

“Is your brother here already?” Sam inquired, brows furrowing as he heard the music drifting from the back. He hadn’t ever considered the stuffy looking guy behind the counter a music type, especially not something as sappy as an old Dean Martin song.

Snorting, the older man motioned Sam to follow him behind the counter, finger pressed to his lips to pantomime the other into silence. He pointed, smirking as he watched his usually stoic younger brother work to the music. Moments like this reminded him that Castiel hadn’t always been so distant to him and that long, long ago he had been a ridiculously cute kid, prone to moments of panic-inducing curiosity that usually ended in bee-stings and skinned knees. Maybe it was just his age showing, but Gabriel fiercely missed the summers where he would be saddled with the younger brats, even when he would have to miss out on adventures with friends of his own age. There were no memories more precious than dropped ice cream cones, sticky puff-cereal and marshmallow fingers, and dropping corndogs in the public pool. Most of Gabriel’s babysitting ventures ended with food, which had led to him having some very chubby little siblings.

Grinning maliciously, he resolved to capture another precious memory before it too floated off into the oblivion of time. He slipped his phone from his pocket and began recording the young pastry-chef, smiling like a Cheshire all the while.

“Isn’t he gunna be mad?” Sam mouthed, trying to keeping from giggling as Gabriel replied with another lip-creasing smirk.

 __  
Then add the wedding bells  
One house where lovers dwell  
Three little kids for the flavor

 _Stir carefully through the days_  
See how the flavor stays  
These are the dreams you'll savor

Castiel quietly sang along, deep voice reverberating with the tones of the singer. He despised people hearing him sing due to a faithful incident at their family’s old church. He had always hated his parents forcing the whole host of their children into the choir, and had resolved to quietly mouth words since the age of three. Of course, Lucifer always had to point out when he wasn’t singing. ”Is it because you sound like a frog?” He’d tease, always poking fun at the toddler’s unusually gruff tone for a child. Not many could compete with Lucifer’s voice, and it was a fact he scarcely let anyone forget. The day his second-to-older brother left home with fever dreams of music stardom, everyone had breathed a collective sigh of relief. There had been no room for rock stars in the little town they grew up in. Not that he'd succeded in his aspiration, but Lucifer had the good graces not to come running back once he'd crashed and burned and was forced into a much more sensible profession.

A multi-tonal beep cut through the ending bar of the song, and his mouth snapped shut on reflex. He whirled about, eyes blooming with fresh waves of annoyance and accusation as he saw his brother wrestle with his dying phone.

“Damn, forgot to put the thing on the charger last night.” Gabriel grumbled, shoving the rapidly dying phone into his pocket.

“Gabriel, why do you feel the need to-” Castiel paused, now noticing the gangly shadow looming over his daily dose of irritation in the form of his brother. Before he could get out a ‘What is he doing here at six in the morning?’ Gabriel stared at him with round beseeching eyes and gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. Well, it looked like Gabriel had a decent explanation for why there was a damp teenager in the bakery when he should be at home getting ready for school, but he was unlikely to get it till later.

“Stay out of the way, I’m almost done.” He grumbled, returning to the last few steps of his preparation while the two edged in, and Gabriel gravitated to the coffee maker. Sam took roost on a stool at the edge of the prep table Castiel was working on, quietly observing each step. Castiel wasn’t used to having a bystander that didn’t try and steal bites of whatever he was making, or draw things on the table with frosting. He could almost appreciate the teen’s demeanor, but his association with Gabriel’s shenanigans held the brownie points back.

“What, um, what are you making?” Sam finally ventured, unable to contain the question any longer.

“ _Pain au chocolat._ ”  “Chocolate croissant rolls.” The brothers answered in unison as Gabriel returned with a tray of coffee and, of course, a plate of baked goods from the cooling racks.

“Gabriel, I don’t understand, you had French in high school,” came Castiel’s sighed aggravation. “I made note cards.”

“Yeah, in French.” Gabriel proceeded to dump half the sugar jar into his coffee, and top it off with a fat stick of chocolate _biscotti_ , something the older brother had insisted on the younger making especially for him. “I barely remember that, anyways. Way to busy looking at Madame Laurent to actually learn French.” This urged a quiet titter from the sheepish teen who was taking a much more reserved route when it came to the sugar.

Grumbling, Castiel finished rolling up the last of the pastries around the sweet bricks of chocolate and went to pop the first four trays in the ovens. “Why does that not surprise me?” Resolved to suffer in the wake of Gabriel’s persistent lackadaisical attitude, he returned to pick up his own cup, and drink it straight, if only to get back at the older. The thought of unflavored, unsweetened coffee made Gabriel’s nose scrunch in disgust every time.

The morning passed in a quiet fashion, with the brothers bickering over the commentary Gabriel provided for each new baked good Castiel began and set out into the cases from the racks. Three cups of coffee, and a pile of pastries later, Sam seemed to relax enough to let the tension from his shoulders ease, and provide a few quips of his own, much to Gabriel’s immense glee. The kid was smart, smart enough to keep up with Castiel when the chef actually began to talk in earnest, which made the less-fun-facting of the group roll his eyes in surrender to the talking dictionaries. As if going on a jog this morning wasn’t bad enough, now Gabriel had to _learn_.

As Gabriel passed off a box of brightly coloured macarons to a couple of yammering soccer-moms, the door swung open with enough force to create a stiff breeze. An annoyed snip died on the tip of his tongue as a very flustered, and very sweaty mechanic came rushing into the bakery.

“Where is he?” Dean wheezed, ignoring the wide berth the soccer-moms gave him as they edged nervously out the door.

A scrape of a chair in the back sounded, and Sam stood up from his position in the corner, where he had been reading one of Gabriel’s books he had stashed in his office. ”Dean? How’d you know I was here?” He had every intention of meandering his way back home or dropping by the car-shop sooner or later, but the youth had found himself wont to leave just yet. The older pair of brothers might be a bit weird, but they were fun in their own way and hadn’t brought up Sam’s obvious avoidance once.

 Behind the counter, Castiel set down his piping bag with a look that could only be described as cramped, from the tight string that pulled his brows together, to the pursing of his lips. “I called him- Well, I called the shop. I assume they must have called him after.” It hadn’t been hard to locate the shop where the elder Winchester worked, there were only so many garages in the area that would take them near _Choux Want Some More?_ on their walking route. The second shop he had dialed had told him that Dean hadn’t made it into work yet, but they’d give him a call to let him know. The older man that had answered the phone had mumbled something about ‘idjits’ and grumbled a low string of curses that had the name John attached to it, so he assumed the man knew the brothers.

Dean crossed the bakery with a few bow-legged strides and planted himself in front of his younger, yet equal height brother with a blaze burning in his eyes. “The hell were you _thinking?_ Just running out all night and not taking your damn phone? You could have been dead! Or-” He stuttered, too angry to even begin to process all he wanted to get out. “What the fuck, Sammy?” The mechanic looked strung out, and as wired and sleep deprived as the teen. He had been looking for the teenager ever since the argument with their father had dulled down to staunchly ignoring each other’s presence as each party nursed their rage. John had gone back to nursing a three-day buzz, and Dean had been tempted to start one of his own until he realized he hadn’t heard Sam’s disappointed sigh sounding over his shoulder as he usually did when these fights found no proper resolution.

Thoroughly chastised, the teen in question flicked strands of his unruly bangs from his face, and directed a heartrending stare at his elder sibling. The look should have lost its potency the moment the kid grew taller than Dean, but it only seemed to grow more doleful with age. “Sorry Dean, I left my phone on the kitchen table and I ... didn’t want to go back yet until I was sure.” ‘Sure _he_ had stumbled out of the house for the next few days’ was the unspoken end of the sentence.

The simmering rage that had rolled off the older Winchester dissolved with a gushed sigh, and Dean made a gruff grunt and planted himself down on the nearest chair. “Yeah well, you coulda called somewhere else. Bobby and Ellen almost went through the roof.” He grimaced, knowing he was in for an ear-full whenever he finally went into work. The only way they got any peace was convincing the well-meaning friends of the family that they didn’t argue much anymore, and that John was contented to drink himself into oblivion by himself in a bar, and not in the house.

Now that he had calmed a bit, Dean finally noticed just what a scene he had caused a few minutes before. Luckily it was still early in the day, and only a sparse amount of people had been in the bakery to start with, but by now, they had all cleared out. Blushing from the tips of his ears to his neck, Dean looked at the other pair of siblings with a sheepish grin. “Sorry for all the-” He gave a vague wave, “Teenagers, you know?” He resolutely ignored Sam’s indignant huff. “Thanks by the way, for the call. Without it, my ass would still be running around town.”

There was a long stretch of silence, one that had Gabriel’s lips pulling into a strained smile with each passing moment. After a minute, it was obvious that Castiel hadn’t registered that the ‘thank you’ had been directed at him and his forethought to call Dean, something Gabriel had never even considered.  “Well, that’s Cas for you, the responsible one.” Gabriel reached up to slap the silent man on the back with a hard thump, jolting him from whatever lapse into la-la-land he had vacationed into.

“O-oh, yes. It was no problem. I was prone to forgetting the time when I was younger and I learned that notification is the best route to avoid punishment.” Castiel blurted, the dawning of shock and self-consciousness sweeping over his face with each uttered word. Why had he said _that_? He wasn’t normally the ‘sharing’ type, and volunteering information about his days as a wandering teenager, prone to sitting in fields or stowed away in the library all day, wasn’t something he often shared. Determined not to let any other peculiar admissions slip past his lips, he ducked his head and continued piping thin layers of chocolate onto a tray of delicate looking _petit fours_.

Grinning anew, the mechanic rose and gestured for Sam to stay standing. He needed to haul ass to work, and Sam needed to get home and change before getting to school before lunch.

 Suppressing a snicker, Gabriel leaned pointedly on the case in front of him, fingers absently tapping over the glass. “Well, it wasn’t so bad, put him to work in the back, made him wash dishes and wear an apron.” He winked at the younger Winchester, knowing that the only thing they did was to feed the kid up, pump him full of caffeine and romance novels.

“I see that.” Dean smirked, having noticed the empty plate and cups in front of Sam’s seat as he rose. His eyes trailed to the case Gabriel was leaning on, eyes tracing down to where the older man was nonchalantly tapping with a shit-eating grin on his face. There, nestled in the center of the bottom row of fancy cakes, was what Dean could only assume to be a pie. It certainly _looked_ like a pie. He walked closer, bending to read the etched note-card in front of the delectable red and white dessert.

‘ _Clafoutis Pie,_

_An American take on a French classic.’_

 He straightened, eyes cutting to the quiet pastry chef, who straightened to meet his gaze the moment the man had realized where Dean was looking. One expression brightened with glee the same time the other darkened with barely restrained humiliation.

“Looks like I need to stop by after work.” Dean commented as he stepped back, practically strutting as he tucked his hands into his jean pockets.

The piping bag that Castiel had meant to place on the counter, tumbled to the ground with a quiet squish, oozing chocolate sauce onto the floor. “It’s your prerogative,” Castiel replied, cheeks burning under the weight of his discomfort as he hurriedly retreated to the back to grab a cleaning cloth. What was it about the oldest Winchester that made him loose reasonable control over his limbs?

Snickering, Dean reached out to tug Sam into a loose hold and retreated towards the door. “Thanks for letting me hang out!” Sam called with a wave, pleased that he got out of the tense situation from Dean’s distracted interest. He never thought he’d be more thankful for Dean’s tendency to flirt with anything reasonably attractive.

“Bye, Gumbi! No more trying to grow mushrooms in the rain!” Gabriel shouted after, chuckling in the aftermath of the morning. Things were starting to get interesting around here. “Think you’ve got yourself a fan, Cas.” He said down at his flustered brother, watching him as he began to moodily mop up the spreading chocolate puddle.

“Don’t you have filing you need to be doing? We’re behind in everything now thanks to this morning. Be productive.”

Somehow, Castiel’s tendency to work through uncomfortable situations was all the more endearing today, and Gabriel could only continue his mirth all the way back into his office.  For once, Castiel’s personality had met its match, and Dean’s stubbornness was assuredly overtaking him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone that wants updates, excerpts, or just likes nerd blogs, my tumblr is http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/


	6. Custard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is coming on a bit too strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sooo sorry it's taken so long to update. Won't bore you with my trials and tribulations, but let's just say I was sickly, I ranted enough on my tumblr, haha! Anyway, thanks to all that are still reading, and thanks some more for the comments!! I actually had to break this chapter I had outlined into two parts because it would have been a beast otherwise.  
> Also, I'm debating on the direction I want things to go, and I was curious for opinions! I tend to write darker themes outside of fanfiction so I was curious if people prefered things on the lighter side family wise, or gritty. No worries by the way, Still a happy ending either way!!

“So, let me get this straight. You’re freakin’ Picasso when it comes to these–” The mechanic made a gesture towards the pile of multi-coloured macarons Dean had taken to calling ‘Crayon cookies’. “–but can’t cook? How does that even work?”

Castiel fought down the rising blush valiantly, but in the end, a faint pout found its way to his pale lips. “It’s different. The chemical reactions. The cooking techniques. The ingredients. It’s like comparing, well, baking and long dead artists.” A smirk replaced the pout at his own quip. He had found in the past weeks of Dean’s increasing visits that he was increasingly at ease tossing some lip back at the other man, much to Dean’s delight.

A charming laugh rumbled from the mechanic’s chest, a sound that Castiel was growing to appreciate. “Yeah yeah, pick on the uncultured why don’t ya?” Strong fingers drummed against the counter top impatiently. “So when are you going to–”

“It’s baking.” Castiel leaned up from his work, nose twitching as he sniffed. “Five more minutes.” The rich heat-blasted nutmeg made an intoxicating scent permeate the bakery, ghosting his nostrils like a thick perfume. With how many years he had been baking, it was a simple task to ‘sniff-test’ how much longer a dish needed in the oven. At the pinnacle of perfection, food had a certain aroma, thick and heady.

Dean looked at the baker incredulously, obviously not convinced he could ‘smell’ completion. He sniffed, craning towards the door to the back of the shop. “How can you tell?” He asked with a dubious tilt of his head.

Cool fingers tied up the last of his to-go orders for the day, fashioning a garish blue bow at the top of the plain white box. “Egg custard smells pretty strong for being so simple. Smell the nutmeg? It’s easy to burn; then it gets sharp and smells bitter. When it’s done, the nutmeg mixed with the custard will smell velvety. The flour-based pie crust mixed with pecans also had a distinct smell. Pecans are terrible when they’re over heated because of their natural oil but smell it now. It’s faintly sweet. That means it’s almost done.” Throughout Castiel’s in-depth explanation, Dean’s brow had slowly risen in time with the mirth of his grin. A week ago, the green-eyed man had figured out that if he really wanted to get the guy talking, you just had to ask him about baking. Or bees. But Dean didn’t feel like another intense rant on how people were systemically killing off bee populations around the world. Once a week was more than enough.

“Sweet, huh?” He sniffed once more, leaning deeper on the counter, so much that his casually three-unbound-button denim shirt gaped. Castiel’s eyes flicked to the long line of Dean’s throat created, trailing down the swath of sun-baked golden skin that disappeared off into his shirt at the center of his sternum. A peek of a dark freckle colored the inside of Dean’s left clavicle. Castiel wasn’t sure why he cataloged that, but he filed it away all the same. Sometimes he could almost imagine the heat of the sun from the mechanic’s skin. It was a stark contrast to his own, which despite the fact that he had an olive completion, his bakery was kept cool and he rarely had time to nature-walk anymore which had dulled it a few shades. What tan he had before his job from his time spent outdoors had long faded, and he was sure he was in dire needed of a dose of vitamin D.

When his eyes finally returned to looking at Dean’s face, Castiel found the too-green depths of the other man’s eyes staring with bright amusement back at him. “Do I pass inspection or should I undo another button?” The casual way he said it sent flames dancing from the tips of the pâtissier’s toes, to the tips of his ears. Castiel clutched the box in his hands like a lifeline, frozen like a cornered animal. Only the sound of the timer sounding in the back room saved him from Dean’s quiet teasing chuckle as the man sank back down onto his barstool.

Castiel wouldn’t quite say he ‘fled’, but it was close. He was used to Gabriel being a sleazy human being, but the way Dean said things sometimes… It wasn’t like the way his brother just blurted things to make people laugh or uncomfortable. It had a purpose. Dean was _flirting_ , and with him no less! Didn’t Dean notice the type of person he was? Was it just teasing? Surely he didn’t expect him to reciprocate. Furthermore, if Dean was interested, why the hell would he be interested in him?

He pulled the custard from the oven and stared down at the nutmeg-dusted surface as if to divine the answer. If he asked Gabriel, he would only say something like, ‘Well what do you feel for Dean?’, and the honest answer? He had no idea. Dean was an intriguing, amusing man, but past that, Castiel couldn’t divine much else. He enjoyed being in Dean’s presence. He looked forward to his visits. But flirting? He had no clue and no interest in flirting back with Dean just yet.

Inwardly sighing, he placed the custard pie on a cooling rack and went back to the counter where Dean was finishing up his coffee. ”I gotta run, someone came in with a rush-job at the shop and hell if I’m missing the chance to score some of the extra labor.” He rose, boots thudding against the floor. “Save me some of that pie! I’ll be back after. I’m serious, don’t give me that face.” Dean laughed at his own joke since Castiel’s expression had scarcely changed in the thirty seconds he had been back in the room. “And tell your brother to stop giving Sammy those skanky books, like he needs something else for me to make fun of him over.” This at least was a jest, since Dean found it _hilarious_ that his college-bound teenage brother had a new interest in Harlequin romances. He just hoped their Dad didn’t stumble across any of them.

“Later, magic-fingers!” With a final call of Castiel’s bestowed nickname, Dean was gone, leaving the usual flurry of confusion and bewilderment as usual.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t get it. He thought he had read all the signs. Sure, Castiel was an awkward guy–putting it lightly–, but he wasn’t _so_ nutty that Dean thought he had read the signs wrong. The guy hadn’t seemed too enthused at him at first, but he knew Castiel had warned up to him. The pie had said it all…or so he thought.

Dean had brought his A-game hard. Finding ways for their hands to brush, every panty-dropping grin he could muster, even what his brother had so-kindly put as ‘peacocking’ with a button popped past what was necessarily his usual. Nothing, at each flirt or grin, Castiel seemed to freeze up or find abrupt fascination with anything around him, almost like he was scared of the whole situation.

Maybe the guy just didn’t swing that way, which would surprise the ever loving hell out of Dean; with hands like that and the French-rants, but Sam often told him not to judge on ‘ridiculous stereotypes’. Whatever the case, Dean was damned disappointed. Castiel was a nerdy type, but he had watched the pâtissier enough to fantasize what his ‘magic fingers’ might be capable of. The casually tousled sex-hair, that gruff but inviting voice, those lips– _Dammit_ , it was criminal. There was no way that Castiel had that whole look natural and didn’t do a damn thing with it. A straight guy would’ve at least rebuked him and set the record straight (literally), right? The realization that maybe he just wasn’t Castiel’s type didn’t sit well with Dean’s ego in the least.

Nothing he could do about it, no point ruminating. But he couldn’t let it go without _one_ more all American try.

It was days later when Dean found himself sitting at ‘his’ spot by the counter, smirking quietly as he watched Castiel meticulously slice paper-thin apples for some kind of tart. He asked one-day last week why Castiel did so much work in the front, instead of in the back, yet he only received a vague grumble of ‘Gabriel suggested it’, whatever that meant. He tended to avoid the pint-sized terror whenever he could. He always looked like he had an ulterior motive, his eyes were too shady, and his smirking grin; something was going on there and he wasn’t keen on finding out what. Sammy liked the guy alright, but he had always had a shitty judge of character as far as Dean was concerned. The bakery owner did have a soft-spot for his little brother, which Dean begrudgingly accepted. Sam needed all the friends he could get, even creepy bakery-owners.

As he glanced over the morning paper next to his empty pie-plate, Dean began to hum, doing his best to keep the wicked grin he felt threaten to pull at his lips bloom into fruition. He had to admit, the first time Sam had played the video of Castiel’s early morning routine to him, he had almost fallen out of his swivel chair at the garage. Such a stoic guy singing Dean Martin? Dean sure as hell hadn’t expected _that_. It was cute though, not that he would ever admit to saying anything was ‘cute’. Castiel had looked like he had really enjoyed it, baking in the early morning, with some tunes playing. It made a little flip in his stomach, a mixture of amusement and attraction. It wasn’t a hard stretch of his male psyche to super-impose the scene into something more risqué, with a lot more nudity, and more baked goods being eaten off body parts.

He thought more below the belt than with his actual brain more than he cared to assess.

As he hummed the same Dean Martin song, he watched as tension began to filter through Castiel’s body, traveling from his fingertips to his arms, and torso like a sweeping wave. The white-clad man looked torn between blushing and paling, and it made for an amusing blotchy pattern on his olive skin. Castiel must’ve thought Sam had deleted the video, which told him that Castiel probably thought the kid was more innocent than he was.

Unfortunately, Dean didn’t garner the reaction or dialogue he had meant to at all. Instead, the other man had dropped the knife so fast it clattered on the stainless-steel prep-table and darted into the back like it was a sanctuary instead of a kitchen. He didn’t come back out either, even when Gabriel had dramatically risen from his seat in the back of the café with a great, burdened sigh in Dean’s direction, and retreated after his sad little sibling.

Not interested then. Right, well, that was a kick in the teeth. Maybe he wasn’t the Casanova he thought he was (as if he believed that for a minute).

 

* * *

 

Dean was definitely flirting. There was no denying it now. It was an earnest, albeit teasing form of flirting, but not even Castiel could claim ignorance on it anymore. The all-consuming panic at the realization couldn’t be quelled, even with his brother’s soothing offering of hot-cocoa and quiet words of encouragement.

“Well, is it so bad?” His honey-eyed brother asked the night after as he tried to arrange his butt-cheeks in a comfortable position on his sibling’s grossly uncomfortable dining chair in his breakfast nook. “He’s not a bad looking guy, right? Not my type, too cock-sure, but objectively you know?” Castiel had to reserve himself from commenting on Gabriel’s right to call _anyone_ ‘cock-sure’.

“I realize he is very aesthetically pleasing, Gabriel. I’m not blind.” The ‘but’ hung in the air long enough Gabriel was forced to quirk a prompting brow. “It’s just… I haven’t known him for very long so how can I–” His fingers tightened around his coffee mug, stormy eyes staring down into the brackish depths. “He obviously wants to progress into something other than acquaintances, certainly not friends, but I would like to get more… acquainted.” It wasn’t as if he was averse to being around Dean, quite the opposite, but he had no wish to progress onto something ‘else’ before he knew anything about the other man. That wasn’t so strange, was it?

“People usually get to know one another when they date, Cassy,” Gabriel gently reminded, old hat by this point as this conversation had come up in the past.

A ‘ding’ from the oven tore the young baker from his rapidly cooling cocoa. “As they do… other things.” Castiel grumbled under his breath as he donned a pair of oven-mitts to take out tonight’s joint-effort at dinner. Some kind of nondescript roast and potatoes that shouldn’t have gone in when the roast had started, as the poor spuds had almost disintegrated by the roast’s completion. Another lesson in cooking learned.

“So you really don’t, you know.” Dammit he _had_ to ask. Gabriel was a self-described man-slut, he would admit it. He liked sex, and he liked it as often as his schedule permitted (he had never expected the bakery to take up so much of his free time when he started it!).  He didn’t think there was anything wrong with having frequent partners. Gabriel just wasn’t the dating type. Live free or other such quotes that people plastered over their social media profiles with tastefully boring scenery in the background.

 Castiel’s shoulders hunched up to his ears as he desperately tried to think of a way to divert Gabriel from the topic. A minute ticked by, and his elder brother’s stare hadn’t lessened in curiosity. “I don’t like ‘getting close to people’ without… getting close to them,” he supplied slowly as he butchered the roast into vaguely same sized chunks, frowning in quiet disapproval as the chunks floated about the potato-debris. “I don’t see how you can just…” he trailed, trying to imagine what it would be like to just meet someone at a bar and jump into bed with them. The idea of being naked around a complete stranger, coupled with the idea that said stranger would _touch_ him, sent a surge of revulsion up his spine. There was just no way.

 Throwing his hands up in defeat, the shorter brother hopped up to set out some silverware. “Alright alright, just thought I’d ask.” The idea that his brother, who was in the prime of his life, was a virgin, made Gabriel as amazed as it did sad. He didn’t subscribe to the idea that a man had to have sex to ‘be a man’, but rather, he was sad that his brother hadn’t the chance to share an experience with someone he trusted, or at least, was insanely attracted to. Gabriel couldn’t say his own loss of virginity had been very romantic, but hell, it was a memory and a half!

“Then I implore you to stop asking, dinner is ready anyway.” Castiel deposited two bowls of their joint-effort on the dining table and began to poke about the chunks with lackluster effort.

Rolling his eyes, Gabriel set to eating, “Maybe you should have the guy hang around just to feed us. You said he cooks right?” He twirled a fork-full of meat in front of his face, grimacing as a bit of thick fat-laden broth dripped from it and onto the table. He could almost hear the ‘stop playing with your food’ in Castiel’s stare. Sighing, he stuck the forkful in his mouth and mumbled, “Just a suggestion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone that wants chapter updates or wants to know about delays, my tumblr is http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/


	7. Derby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean turns up after weeks of being absent to stir up emotions in Castiel that he doesn't recognize out of himself. Is he...jealous?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygoodness..This has been a long time coming^^;; I have rewritten this chapter three times and still am not happy with it but I can't make anyone wait anymore so forgive meeeee!!  
> Also thanks for all the kind words! Comments make my muse atwitter<3 (Seriously they're my only motivation because I'm useless and lazy, haha)

Castiel didn’t understand it. For weeks, Dean had been coming to the bakery at least every other day. There had been no sign of him for the last few days, ever since he had ran off after the man had hummed one of his favorite songs, his deep, smoky voice ghosting along the notes, despite the volume. Had he done something wrong? He thought Dean had been teasing him, since he was sure Sam must have shown him the video he and Gabriel had recorded that morning weeks ago. Castiel didn’t think Dean was the type to listen to much Dean Martin in his free time, though he could just be stereotyping.

The mechanic’s absence left him ruminating, inwardly at least, for on the outside it was business as usual to all that crossed his path, all save for Gabriel. The older sibling knew the younger far too well to be fooled by that act, and it made Gabriel as sour as it was making Castiel. How dare some greasy car-jockey come in here, get his little brother all flustered, and then fly the coop! The texts Sam had been sending him hadn’t been exactly helpful either. He never seemed keen on getting into details about his family after the initial feeling-vomit that had spilled out of him when they had first met. Gabriel couldn’t say he was eager to pry either, he already felt a little sleazy sending so many texts to a high-schooler, but the kid was as funny, smart, and dammit it wasn’t like he was doing anything creepy, right?

[Srsly tho, wth is going on?] Gabriel finally shot off a text from his corner in the bakery, huddled in a pile of tax reports, bills, and smutty books.

[Dude, I don’t know. Dean hasn’t said anything, honestly, no matter how much I ask. I’ve barely even seen him lately.]

[Well, pry or smthing!! Cas looks like he’s eating all the lemons that go in the tarts.] A soft snort punctuated him hitting ‘reply’, honey eyes momentarily flicking up to see Castiel’s deadpan face as he served a customer, something Gabriel should rightly be doing, but he brushed aside under the excuse of ‘sleuthing’.

[How do you expect I do that? Wire-tap him?!]

With a roll of his eyes, Gabriel readied to type out a list of suggestions, gaze only breaking from his smartphone when the bell chimed from the entrance. “Welcome to _Choux-”_ His hurried greeting ended with a strangled cough as he beheld who strode into the bakery. It was an hour later than when Dean usually came in from his day at work, and the reason was sauntering by his side, all bright-white smiles, and highlights in her hundred dollar boots and twenty-dollar jeans.

At first, Gabriel _really_ wanted to give the guy the benefit of a doubt. The woman could just be a friend, a cousin even! But when the brunette looped her arm in Dean’s plaid, his stomach dropped. He sprang from his seat to intercept, not wanting Castiel to look up from his busy-work behind the counter where he was diligently frosting this-and-that.

“Hey Cas, weren’t you going to set out more _Bavarois_?” The shorter brother fluidly guided the taller towards the kitchens as soon as he reached the counter, thankful that Dean had decided to take a seat instead of immediately coming to the counter as he usually did. Thank whatever gods above that Castiel paid little to no attention to who came in the door, or this would have gone south even faster. Now to keep him back there. “Make some more egg tarts too huh? They’ve been selling fast.” Which was a bit of a white lie, since in reality Gabriel had just eaten almost four of them since breakfast.

Now Dean made a move to come to the counter, with his easy grins and boy-next-door cheeks. Oh, how Gabriel wanted to punch him. “Can I get you anything?” He greeted with a searing smile, one that made the mechanic falter in his saunter to the dessert-cases.

* * *

 

 

Well, that hadn’t been the greeting he had expected out of the pint-sized pervert that was for sure. The guy looked like he was trying to melt him with laser-vision, and he kept stealing glances towards Cindy as if she was diseased. Jealous maybe? Poor guy, probably couldn’t bag a girl like that due to being so damn vertically-challenged, not that his he felt an ounce of sympathy what so ever. ”Yeah, she wants something with hazelnuts in it, like those little French candy-things you can get at the grocery store. You know the gold foil things?” It was a French name, Dean and his date could only assume that it was a ‘French thing’ to use hazelnuts.

The look he received told him they were being judged on monumental levels. ”Do I look like a pastry chef?” He grumbled, peering into the cases since it didn’t look like Gabriel was going to be providing much help. Where the heck had Castiel gone off to anyway? He didn’t have the greatest sales pitch, but he always knew what Dean liked, so he was sure he could find _something_ for the brunette that she’d like.

Cindy wasn’t anything to write home about, but she came to the shop regularly, mainly due to her spectacular lack of knowledge about the vehicle she drove, be it diesel in her Chevy, or her engine so junked up from old oil it passed as tarmac. Still, she was a pretty thing, legs for days and a voice that was a tad bit husky. He had asked her out on a whim more than any deep desire, more to nurse his bruised ego and fluff his pride. Her ready agreement had made his day with its enthusiasm, even if she did chatter like no tomorrow. Dean had been spending so much of his free time around Castiel that he almost forgot what it was like to deal with near-constant conversation.

“Hey where’d-“Dean wasn’t even sure why he attempted. Gabriel made a pointed effort to turn away from Dean as he gathered a few ‘hazelnut things’ from the cases.”Oookay then...” Grumbling, he retreated to the table with the desserts and set them down in front of his ‘date’.

* * *

 

He hadn’t expected the _bavarois_ to sell so fast, it almost made him hopeful that the town populace was warming to the idea of more adventurous desserts than cupcakes or cookies. Castiel drew the faintly jiggling desserts from the cooler and deposited them on the counter to begin cutting the strawberry flourishes to place atop. The scent of baking tarts warmed the kitchens, the combination of rosemary and lemon zest soothing and inviting. It was one of his favoured new creations, something a bit savoury with the light sweetness of the egg-tart. From how Gabriel had been cramming them into his mouth, Castiel was fairly confident they would become a regular item instead of seasonal.

A familiar laugh echoed from the front of the shop, stalling the baker’s busy fingers and making him straighten. Dean was here? That was peculiar, as he usually peered his head into the back to bug him (Dean’s wording, not his) when he arrived and Castiel wasn’t up front. No matter, he had an idea that he wanted the mechanic’s opinion on anyway, a pie for the next rotation.

After setting down his paring knife the young pastry chef grabbed a small notebook from the corner of the table, and made his way towards the front. ”Dean, you’re here, good, I wanted your opinion-“ He started before he even looked to see where the flannel-clad man was, just assuming he was at his usual spot at the counter. The realization that Dean wasn’t in his usual seat was followed by a female voice laughing a reply to whatever quip the mechanic had just cracked to make himself laugh- and endearing habit Dean possessed. His bright eyes swiveled, brows furrowing as he saw Dean seated with a woman whose breasts were large enough to rest comfortably upon the table from her arched posture. Something told him the provocative stance was very much deliberate as she had all eyes upon the green-eyed man before her, barely noticing how close said breasts were getting to her plate.

A ‘Oh hey’ from Dean drew his attention over, and Castiel tried to struggle through whatever he had been saying before, only to find his mind had momentarily lapsed into white noise. ”Hello Dean.” He supplied instead before his eyes pulled once again toward the woman, who was now looking at him as well, albeit with a touch of annoyance in her dark brown eyes.

“My opinion on what?” Dean asked with a tone that was so normal Castiel felt silly for the peculiar feeling that had settled within his stomach. He felt…irritated? Confused? Curious? A whole host of different emotions that congealed together and made him feel weighted and lost.

Shaking his head, he tucked the notepad into his jacket pocket. ”It’s not of import; you seem busy.” He turned and made his way back towards the kitchen before Dean could protest, not that Cindy was about to let him get up anyway, Castiel could hear her forcefully try to start up a conversation with Dean as soon as his back was turned.

Had he been wrong about Dean’s motivation in coming to the bakery? He had never seen Dean bring anyone save his sibling in the weeks of their short acquaintanceship. The man had always sought Castiel out as soon as he arrived, even when Gabriel grumbled about him going into the kitchen with oil-stains on his clothing. Had he…had he really been reading too much into Dean’s actions and words? Could he be that naïve to not even know when someone was genuinely flirting with him versus teasing him? Had flustering him been only entertainment for Dean?

Questions fluttered unbidden through his mind as he tried to restart work on cutting the strawberries into fans. Four aborted strawberries later Castiel’s knife slipped and slid into the waiting flesh of his thumb, and the knife dropped with a clatter. Scowling, he crossed the kitchen to the sink, and thrust his freely bleeding digit underneath the cold tap. He hadn’t slipped with a knife since he was in his second year of culinary school. Even burdened with a fever he could always trust himself to hold a knife steady. It took ages for the bleeding to wane, and by the time he wrapped his thumb up in a paper towel, a bitter twang filled his nostrils. “[i]Dammit[/i].” He cursed as he hurried towards the oven, a rush of smoke billowing out as he snatched the now-ruined tarts out and dropped them onto the nearest counter with a loud clang.

What was happening to him? In the span of ten minutes he had made more mistakes than he had in the past few years. The throb of his thumb, and the exhaust vents kicking on only served to mock him. The weighted feeling in his stomach had turned to a ball of lead, and Castiel felt in that moment he could have walked out of the bakery and went home without a word of excuse to his brother.

His humiliation doubled as Gabriel stuck his head around the corner, brows raised as the older sibling ventured a tentative- “Uhm… Cas, bud, you okay?” Gabriel had _never_ seen Castiel burn a dessert in the entire time _Choux want some more?_ had been open for business. Castiel had barely burned cookies when he was a teenager! To hear the exhaust fans whirring to life had almost made him vault over the counter for fear of fire, rather than a bunch of tarts burning. The fact that this happened after Castiel had practically sprinted from the shop-front made his ‘big-brother’ fury double. There was no way Castiel’s disgruntled face, and burning tarts could be a coincidence. Seeing Dean with that woman had riled the awkward man up more than Gabriel had ever seen out of his younger sibling.

“Fine. Just lost track of time.” Castiel lied, which in itself was a rarity. After fishing a band-aid from a drawer, and slipping a glove on, he doggedly resumed trimming strawberries for the waiting desserts. ”Take this tray out.” Usually Gabriel would have a snarky reply waiting for whenever Castiel treated him like an assistant instead of a partner, but in this case the shorter man let it slide.

It wasn’t until the elder man slunk off back to the store-front that Castiel allowed himself to suck in a deep, calming breath. This was ridiculous. He didn’t even know why he felt so off, the sight of Dean with that harlot- No, that was unfair, she was probably a very nice young woman. He had no reason to feel hostile towards the girl, even if her laugh was a grating and unpleasant octave. He could still hear it every few minutes, flaring up each time he managed to talk himself down. It was a relief when he heard the door clang, and Dean address Gabriel, “Tell him to text me that question!” As if Castiel had actually ever texted the other man after Dean had taken the baker’s phone from the counter and plugged his number in. He had never learned how to operate the ‘extra’ functions on his phone, and Castiel felt verbal communication easier than trying to punch numbers into a small device. Taking five minutes to have a conversation he could say aloud in thirty seconds was an utter waste of time. Not that he had said any of this aloud to Dean.

Later in the night his phone vibrated on the nightstand, odd in that only his family members contacted him, and they all knew to call him instead.

[Well since ur not gunna txt me, I’ll text u. What’s ur question???-Dean]

Castiel stared at the text as it scrolled at the top of his screen, blue eyes narrowed. After a few aborted attempts and figuring out how to open the message, he sighed in aggravation and let the phone fall back onto the nightstand. He didn’t feel the need to inquire Dean’s opinion on what his new pie-rotation should be, and he couldn’t place why. Each time he let his mind stray from the book in front of him back towards the day, a bubble of annoyance welled within, and made him obstinate. The desire to ask Dean’s opinion had been outgrown by Castiel’s annoyance, and even if the other man hadn’t exactly done anything Castiel could pinpoint, he still felt extremely cross with him. No matter, Castiel knew Gabriel would be more than happy to try any new creation he tested, with all the jogging the elder man had been doing he could condone a few test-bites without comment. It would be business as usual.

Just as it always had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone that wants updates on writing progress or absences add me on tumblr at : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/


	8. Blueberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things can't be solved by ignoring them. Castiel thinks he just wants to forget about the whole ordeal, but Dean won't let up until he at least gets a hint at what he did wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait and this unbetaed mess! My beta is busy and I've had this thing written for weeks and didn't want to make you guys wait any longer.  
> Thanks for your patience.
> 
> (Characters owned by CW, blah blah obvious generic disclaimer)

A familiar, yet annoying buzzing sounded on the table top as he plucked his baking whites from his locker in Gabriel's office.

[Dude you get my msg?]

Another text from Dean. Brows creasing, the young pastry chef regarded the phone with all the warmth one spared a garden slug. The aggravation hadn't died from the day prior, in fact, he was quite sure it had gotten worse. The initial shock of realizing Dean had either given up on him out of frustration, or had never really be flirting at all, had waned. One thing that truly, deeply grated him about the situation was the gall the man had, something Gabriel had all but ranted about as they prepared dinner the night before. Who flirted with someone then brought in a date when they were rebuked? It only spoke of callousness, something Castiel had no stomach for. Perhaps he had been right in his initial assessment of the older Winchester.

"Give me that." Gabriel strode up behind him and swiped the phone from his hand, elder brother fury rampant as he laid into the keys.

[This is Gabriel. Cas dsnt txt. Give it up.] He had wanted to say _much_ more but he figured cussing someone out over text is something best left to teenagers and emotional college kids. Whoever said he was immature could kiss his ass. Smirking, Gabriel hit 'send' and deposited the phone back into his brother's awaiting hands.

"There. Solves that. So what's on the agenda for today?" The short man kept up the cheer as he tugged his taller sibling out into the kitchens, despite the fact that Castiel was still in the process of buttoning his shirt. "Probably could do with some more _operas_ , those old ladies really seem to enjoy crammin them in." His suggestion fell on deaf ears; he could see it in Castiel's eyes that the other hadn't heard one thing he had said. "Hellloo?"

Twitching faintly, Castiel roused himself back to the here-and-there. “Mm, yes. Fine." He hadn't a clue what Gabriel had been going on about, but he figured it was at least pertaining to the shop going by the exasperated smirk that twisted the man's expressive lips. "I'm going to be in the back for the duration of the day if that's agreeable, I need to catch up after yesterday's- mishaps." The frown stayed glued to his scruffy face as he extracted himself from Gabriel's insistent hold to go retrieve his apron and begin preparations for the day.

Castiel found it odd enough that Gabriel was here in the small morning hours with him. He could count on one hand the times the older man had shown up alongside him to help with preparations. Did Gabriel think he was really that juvenile that he needed him to hold his hand? The thought did nothing to improve his already soured mood, and by the time the shop opened the pâtissier could have turned customers into stone if he had decided to continue helping up front. It was a small wonder how Gabriel kept his mouth clamped tight throughout the day, but Castiel decided when he was in less of a foul mood he would thank him for it.

Like the prior fifteen chimes, Castiel ignores the chime that sounds from the front as the hours crept towards late afternoon. He could hear Gabriel engaged with someone at the counter, animated as always, and thought nothing more of it. He turned to retrieve a tray of _caneles_ from the cooling racks, deciding these golden-baked beauties would take place of a more traditional rum cake that had been requested time after time.

“What was up with short-stop’s message?” The last voice he had wanted to hear that day sounded from the doorway into the kitchen. A few of the delicate round desserts threatened to fly off into the floor as Castiel abruptly swiveled, lips parted and eyes wide with surprise.

Dean leaned against the doorway in the effortless presence he usually radiated, yet there was a touch of annoyance creeping at the corners of his face. He couldn’t begin to answer the question of what he had done to receive the terse attitude out of the short bakery owner. The man had tried to set him ablaze when he saw Dean crossing the bakery while he was otherwise engaged with a group of college kids that had swarmed the cases.

Collecting himself, Castiel sat the tray of desserts down and began to prepare them to be put out. “He was merely answering you because I could not.” He supplied dismissively, earning a faint grunt from the man occupying his doorframe. “Did you need something?

 “Did _I_ need something? I was just tryin to see what you were after yesterday when you bailed before I could answer…Not that I shouldn’t be used to that.” He grumbled the last bits, unable to stifle the rising indignation at the two brothers suddenly treating him like gum on their shoe.

Castiel briefly turned his eyes from the sprigs of sugared mint he was carefully placing atop each golden ring to regard Dean once more. “It hardly matters now, now if you don’t mind, I still have quite a bit of work to do.” The terse dismissal left the car repairman reeling. Dean stood in the doorway gaping as Castiel turned back to his work, ignoring him as if he had just gone up in a plume of smoke. That might have been the politest ‘Fuck you’ he’d ever gotten, but the message was loud and clear. What the hell?

Scowling, he shoved off the doorframe and shot a moody glare at the baker’s shoulders.” Fine. Whatever.” Not his finest comeback, but Castiel’s attitude had caught him off guard. 

Dean’s retreating footsteps should have made the tension that had tightened his body to a coil lessen, but even when the storefront door opened with a violent jangle to signal the mechanic’s departure, he couldn’t take satisfaction in the interaction that had just transpired. He would have thought snubbing Dean’s attempts would make him feel better, but all it had done was flame the embers that still burned in his stomach. The man acted as if he had done nothing wrong. Maybe his ego was so large that to him, he hadn’t.

Grumbling anew, Castiel chucked the last sprigs atop the _caneles_ and swapped the little bell at the end of the table to summon his elder brother with more force than necessary. Never in his life had he been so prone to acting like a child, but the moment Gabriel entered into the kitchen to see how ‘it’ went, he almost lost it. He had no interest in talking with his older sibling about what had just happened, and nothing would pry it out of him. There was nothing to discuss, and it would be better for all if they just forgot about it.

One party, however, had no intention of doing that what so ever. A few days after the initial blow up, Sam strode in, dragging a less than enthused Dean behind him. “Come _on_ , you promised.” While the other two were busy scowling into their shoes, Sam had jauntily kept up his texts with Gabriel. The older man had made a grand show of telling the teen that Castiel had been at work making a line of faintly-sweet desserts for those that weren’t as enthused on cavities as others. Something the perky joker would just never understand.

“Heya kiddo!” Damn if seeing the lanky teen didn’t perk up his day. Gabriel felt like he had been walking on eggshells lately.  Tiptoeing around mention of Dean was about as fun as trying to breech the subject of going home for a visit. Both topics were never well received by his baby brother, not that he could blame him.

 Scrunching his nose, Sam roosted at the counter. ”Kiddo? What are you, forty?” Ignoring the scandalized scoff, the teen set to swiveling on the bar stool. ” Where’s Castiel? I want to hear about the things he’s trying out. I’m prepared to be a guinea pig.” Well damn if the kid didn’t sound chipper today. Gabriel only hoped most of it wasn’t forced, since it didn’t look like it would infect Dean anytime soon.

“I’ll see if I can dig him out from the depths, but-“Gabriel’s lips pressed into a faint line, knowing the likely hood that his brother being persuaded to come out to the storefront while Dean here was slim to hell-no. Judging by the single-minded determination his brother had thrown himself into the past few days, his little brother was nowhere near ‘over it’. He’d never seen get so ruffled in his adult life. He had been pretty easy to rile up when he was younger, but some kind of troubling metamorphosis had happened in his teen years. Since then, Castiel had always been the level-headed one of all their siblings, even when the others pretended to be.

Diving back into the frigid atmosphere of the kitchen, the honey-eyed shop owner took a basic defense.”Hey Cas, Sam is out here. Thought he could try out that new line you’re working on, since the kid’s sweet tooth is more like a baby-tooth.” He offered a winning smile as he watched the other man move from one work station to the next. Seeing all these trays laid out, the knives, the prep-work, it made Gabriel wonder if they should hire some help. Everything was on Castiel’s shoulders, not that he hadn’t tried his hand at being helpful yet…Well, He was a man of certain talents, and piping frosting into the shape of flowers just wasn’t one of them. Now piping frosting on to some other more inviting, warmer surfaces he could handle; Castiel hadn’t received that suggestion very well either. He really thought the ‘Pastries after Dark’ parties could have been a hit too!

 Castiel made a noncommittal grunt and continued to smooth a layer of chocolate ganache over whatever creation was brewing in front of him. “He can come back here if he wants. I have to layer this before it cools.” A brief wave of a spatula ‘shooed’ Gabriel from further discussion, and no amount of lip pooching or otherwise would sway him.

Sighing once more, Gabriel conceded.” Fine. I’ll go fetch then shall I?” He made a show of flaring out his arms in a flourish and bowing from the room. Not that he thought Castiel really noticed with how determined he was to execute a task that he could have done fatally wounded.

Well, if Castiel wanted to sulk and stomp around fine, but he wasn’t going to sit back and let it happen willingly.

“Go on back Gumbi, but beware, his lordship is displeased.” Straightening up out of his sweeping bow as he entered back into the storefront, he aimed a playful wink over his shoulder at the teen perched at the counter. A disgusted snort followed as Dean gazed at the bakery owner as if he was deciding what the best way to hide his body would be. Looks as if both men were in moods of the century.

Sam popped up from the stool and headed back, though not before Gabriel noted the kid seemed to have grown even _more_ in the brief time he’d known him. Jesus Christ what did they feed kids now-a-days? Miracle Gro? Gamma Rays? Still, it looked good on him- Not that he spent time thinking about how the seventeen-year-old looked. That would be creepy. He knew that. So he was absolutely going to stop thinking about that right that moment.

 Dean cleared his throat, moments away from getting up as well. “Shouldn’t someone your age have better things to do than text high schoolers?” Sam didn’t have a lot of friends, it wasn’t hard for the mechanic to guess who he was texting all the time.

 The shorter man picked a cloth from an open drawer to begin wiping down the counter and glass cases, if only because it spared him from having to fully engage the petrol-smelling Casanova. “Chill Brother Bear, read them if you want. Don’t go calling 20/20.” The jokes only deepened the disapproving line of Dean’s lips. “Cut a man a break, He’s been worried about college. I’ve gone to college. See the natural progression?” Not that he had really meant that as a barb, but it had come out a bit more pointed than he’d meant. It wasn’t as if Dean didn’t deserve it, had they not been in public Gabriel might really tried to get under the man’s skin.

 The frown deepened to chasm of displeasure.” I don’t think that’s really any of your business.” He didn’t like the idea of Sam telling some stranger things about his life. About the _family_. They were doing fine, and didn’t need some pastry-shop douche to go poking his nose in places it didn’t belong.

Gabriel could practically smell the testosterone at this point, “I get it, you’re a scary big brother, but princess, I’m not headed for the hills.” A rare edge took root in his voice as the two exchange quiet stares, a million words and insults exchanged in the brief glares. It wasn’t often that Gabriel could be stoked into a flame, but when he did, god forbid whatever got caught in his wake.

“You’re right, these are pretty good. Doesn’t make my teeth feel itchy from all that sugar.” Sam’s voice broke the battle of the gazes between the elder brothers as the two younger emerged from the back. “Not that those kinds of things are bad, just, not my thing.” He hurriedly tacked on less he insult Castiel’s expert hand at baking. He licked at a stray drizzle of caramel sliding down the length of his index finger from the cream-filled shell in his hand. The cannoli inspired desert was something that didn’t make Sam feel sick to his stomach, like the usual sugar-bombs Dean consumed in the form of pies or worse, donuts. The cream held a faint aroma of vanilla bean while the shell crust tasted of barely salted pecans. Only the caramel drizzled atop gave the desert its sweetness, and only just.

Well if Gabriel hadn’t felt like a dirty old man now, he certainly did after turning to get an eye-full of Sam and his desert. Dammit. He needed to get out more, he had been spending way too much time in his shop and at the apartment.

Sparing Gabriel further introspection, Castiel finally noticed who else was in the immediate area, and the hinted smile on his pale lips flat lined. “Dean.” He ‘greeted’, if only to be the better man.

“Cas.”

It irked Castiel, Gabriel had been the only one to call him ‘Cas’ for so long that hearing it from Dean’s lips made him feel uncomfortable. A few days ago it had been flattering, if not-welcomed. Now? It only reminded him of how naïve he had been about the entirety of their interactions.

Noting that every adult within arms-reach looked like they were trying to melt the other with imagined heat-vision, Sam took it upon himself to smooth the situation over.” Hey Dean, want to try? Castiel made a new thing.”

It took ages for the mechanic to break his eyes from the scruffy pastry chef, only to mumble-“No thanks Sammy.” Which was a bold lie, Dean had been known to lick spatula to bowl clean if left within his radius when keeping Castiel company in the back. He wanted to try whatever new thing flitted through Castiel’s head, but his wounded ego wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t know what he did to make the other man act like such a douchebag lately, but hell if he was going to sit back and watch Castiel give him the cold shoulder. After a lifetime of people looking down their noses at the Winchesters, Dean had about enough of it. When he first met Castiel, he had thought the man’s initial aversion cute, if only because the man seemed so un _comfortable_ with everything. Now? It looked like he was only uncomfortable with _him_.

“Okay...” Sammy’s brows creased and he shot a beseeching look across the glass case towards his co-conspirator. Gabriel only shrugged, half tempted to let things fizzle out because of his budding dislike of Dean. He didn’t enjoy being threatened, however, shrouded it was. He had a problem with just about anyone telling him to do anything, and he wasn’t about to cower away from Dean’s Disney-greens. He was older than the little jerk, and while he didn’t usually say ‘With age comes wisdom’, he would quote it till he was blue in the face when it came to Dean Winchester. He had almost a decade on the little twat after all, and that had to count for something.

A peculiar discomfort had settled within Castiel’s chest by this point, building until he couldn’t stand it any longer. “I’ll let you know when I finalize the other one, thank you for your input Sam, I appreciate it.” He gave bob of his head at the teen, who by now could look him straight in the eyes. A few more months and the kid would tower above them all.

“Of course Castiel. Anytime.” Sam replied, smiling because someone had to in this awkward situation. Dean was acting like a sullen child and Castiel looked as if he had swallowed something direly unpleasant. It was hard to ignore the lingering glance that passed between the two as Castiel made to turn. He didn’t get it, why were they acting like twelve-year-olds? They were grown men for god’s sake! How hard was it to talk to someone? Especially when you obviously liked them. He might be reaching a bit with that on Castiel’s part, but Sam was confident at this point that if Castiel hadn’t liked Dean at least slightly, he wouldn’t have reacted to adversely to Dean bringing a date- And boy did he ever get annoyed with his thick-skulled brother on that one. It was no use trying to explain it to him either since Dean felt there was no remote possibility than Castiel had been anything but averse to his flirting over the past weeks.

He didn’t care what they said, age did _not_ equal wisdom.

“I’m going to Ellen’s, get your homework done k?” Dean peeled himself up off the stool as Castiel departed, sour and annoyed. Spending a few hours at Ellen’s bar usually cleared his head up a bit, provided that John wasn’t there. John had been avoiding Ellen’s for a while now, thankfully, as the tough-as-brass woman had begun to flat out ignore him when he wobbled in. Little was worse than a cold stare and tight lips from the older woman. Words told you she cared, silence meant she wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.

Ignoring the renewed trail of pastry-ooze on his fingers, Sam replied a crestfallen ‘k’ and watched as his bow-legged sibling departed with the same choked air as Castiel had. “Eat it.” He held the half-eaten desert out to the older man as the teen resumed his place at the counter. Suddenly the taste of sweet and cream didn’t feel as comforting as it had moments prior.

“You’re covered in sticky.” Gabriel tried to joke as he accepted the pastry from Sam’s sodden fingertips, never one to let good food go to waste. “Not my favorite, but I can see the appeal.” He mumbled around a mouth-full of crust and cream. “Cheer up Bambi, when you’re that emotionally constipated I don’t think we can expect much else.” Castiel could be a cold fish, but Dean could lie with the best of them when it came to his feelings. Gabriel was too transparent for that. He could make a valiant game of it if he worked at it, hell, even if knew he tended to drown out unhappiness with humor, but at least he _tried_. Maybe that’s why he admired the teen sitting so dejectedly in front of him. Sam was an honest kid. When he was sad, he looked sad, when he was mad- come to think of it, Gabriel hadn’t seen the teen mad yet, but he imagined it would be adorable. He’d already seen how crap of a liar Sam was, even when he tried at it, but that was just another plus in Gabriel’s book. Taken from a man who had spun his fair share of tall-tales and mischief, he admired a delicate soul when he saw one.

Raising his fingertips to his lips, Sam licked at the remaining trails so he could stop holding his hand so awkwardly over the counter. “I guess; I just don’t see what the point is. Dean was an ass. Apologize and get over it. I mean, Castiel does like Dean-doesn’t he?” He ventured, accepting the napkin that Gabriel all but thrust at him mid-sentence.

Stuffing the rest of the desert into his face, the faintly red-cheeked man made a faint hum of thought. “I think so...But, Cas is a breed all his own. I don’t really know what goes on in that cranium of his. He doesn’t get close to people easy, but, he sure seemed to like being around Dean. I’ve never seen him in the storefront so much.” Which only made the entire situation worse. Castiel would never admit it, but he knew the bee-obsessed chef had gotten his hopes up. Castiel got lonely and needy like everyone else but was too damn stubborn to show it. He was so convinced he could do things on his own, that the thought of anything else sent him into a spiral of self-doubt and unease. As one of the most confident men in the state, Gabriel didn’t like this aspect of his little brother, if only because it caused the dozy-eyed man so much pain and alienation.

“That has to count for something. Dean doesn’t usually work hard for something like…that.” Sam blanched, not wanting to openly admit how much he disliked Dean’s practice of hitting on anything attractive, but it was known. “Mind if I do my homework here?” His eyes light with a tentative spark, never liking lingering at home without Dean-just in case.

“Sure kid. Coffee? Better get used to caffeine addiction now, because you’re going to be IV-ing the stuff in college.”  Gabriel’s smile came with a bit more ease as he watched Sam relocate himself to a table near the counter so he could still be in conversational distance. Gabriel was never much help when it came to his actual homework, but Sam enjoyed asking him for his input all the same.

* * *

 

Gabriel had never expected to fall into a routine of any sort, but as the week went on, he found himself in the middle of one all the same. Sam would either stop by after school or after Dean got off of work and take roost at what was now ‘his spot’ and do his homework. Sometimes the grumpy mechanic would stop in, either with Sam, or to get the teen, but each time ended the same; Castiel took to completely ignoring Dean entirely. He’d seen Castiel miffed before, even pissed, but to completely ignore someone’s existence? That was something he hadn’t thought his possible out of his awkward, baritone brother. The implications were troubling.

After a week of this uncomfortable pattern, Dean had just about enough. It was beyond personal at this point, and he was spending more time than he should dwelling over the fussy baker than he ever should. Why, _why_ was he downright ignoring him? Third-graders did that! But here was a grown-ass man practically turning his nose up at him for reasons he was still unclear over. He’d made the switch from annoyed to begrudgingly curious within a few days, and after Castiel’s stint of giving him the cold shoulder, he was positively sick with wonder at this point. He didn’t enjoy secrets- Well, at least he didn’t like other people having secrets; He was allowed to have as many as he could handle.

Like it or not, he was going to make Castiel talk to him, even if he wasn’t too sure how yet.

It was well-thought plans like those that had him sulking outside the bakery one night, having noted Gabriel had already departed while staring down at his phone like no man his age should- No doubt talking to Sam, which was a whole different issue he wasn’t going to dwell on right now. First things first.

The back door swung open as Castiel emerged, shrugging a worn bag over his trench-coated shoulder. The hell was with the trench-coat? It wasn’t even cold out, and yet the man looked like he was headed off to a business meeting at a Kinkos. This was ridiculous, why was he even putting this much effort into-

“Cas!” Dammit, before he could even gather his thoughts his mouth had already run off after the disgruntled older man.

Dean swore he could see Castiel bristling in the alley, like a semi-feral cat anticipating the worst. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so insulting. “Wait up.” Dean pushed off the wall he had rooted against for the past hour, and closed the gap between them briskly, not allowing the _patissier_ the chance to skitter away.

“I get your pissed at me for something, but at least you could tell me _why_.” How was he supposed to apologize if he didn’t know what to say he was sorry for?!

A minute line creased the shorter man’s forehead, face pinching as he frantically weighed the options before him. He could either A, keep ignoring Dean and turn and walk away (which would no doubt be even more awkward since he had walked to work today), or B, actually confront the other man and risk looking like an idiot.

“You didn’t-“Castiel began, an annoyed huff soon following.”-I thought-“ It was no use, there was no way he could throw everything out there that he had thought upon seeing Dean with that woman after all the attention Dean had been lavishing upon him. Experience taught him that people tended to grow tired of his quirks and ‘pace’ long before they ever truly got to know him.

“Never mind. I’m going home.” He turned to leave, only to feel calloused, warm fingers slip around his slender wrist and give him a gentle tug.

Dean had reacted before he could fully think it through, but for a moment he had thought the man was actually going to say…Well, that maybe he had been jealous. His hand had found its way to Castiel’s wrist on automatic, the pads of his fingers sliding against the cool flesh of a man used to working next to chill-racks.

Whatever reaction he had been expecting died in the pit of his stomach as Castiel tensed, watery blue eyes flaring wide as a mixture of panic and trepidation took hold within them. The pastry chef recoiled, retracting his hand to his chest as if briefly scalded, and it was as good as a slap in the face. Dean’s jaw set and he took a sharp step back, the initial hurt at having someone one jerk away from his touch churning into anger.” Fine, don’t know what I was thinking anyway.” He all but sneered. He turned and vacated the alley as fast as he could without running, knowing that if he didn’t he might say something truly terrible, or worse.

The receding footsteps brought Castiel back to the mortal plane, feeling the fluttering in his chest recede and die completely. He had been so stunned by Dean grabbing a hold of him like that his brain had just acted automatically. Usually, when someone suddenly grabbed him, it had either been someone in school trying to stuff him into a locker, or one of his elder brothers trying to rough house, something they knew he detested. He could feel the lingering warmth of Dean’s fingers fade into the air, leaving a ghostly impression on his olive skin.

 _“Don’t know what I was thinking anyway.”_ Dean’s departing words hit him a moment later, washing over him with bracing clarity. He had been right, Dean had given up, mistaking his initial knee-jerk reaction for revulsion or something equally unfavourable. Once again, he found himself standing alone somewhere, running over a list of things he could have done differently if he was only- different, then how he was. Whatever natural charisma and grace the rest of his siblings had, was ruthlessly kept from him in his mother’s womb as if there had been nothing left for the youngest.

Shaken, the young _patissier_ turned and resumed his walk home, though now instead of mulling over tomorrow’s menu, he could only dwell on how many other incidents like the one just past, and how he could have done differently.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey Casbee, what’s shakin this morning?” Gabriel felt peppy, which had nothing at all to do with him staying up till one texting a seventeen-year-old at home when he had made plans to go to a bar last night. It was Definitely.Not.That.

The spatula turned to guide a fluffy pile of whipped cream through a caramel trail, swirling the mixture together with gentle, absent strokes.  Castiel’s eyes were open the prep work in front of him, but no lights were on behind them.

“Helllo? Cas? Castiel?..Heeyy!” Gabriel crossed the kitchen until he could bodily peer up into his taller sibling’s face. “Anybody home?”

Castiel blinked, brows pulling hard as he focused at the annoying buzz emanating from his dear older brother. “What?”

Gabriel backed away, swiping an almond croissant from a ready tray at the end of the table. “What gives man? You’re running on auto-pilo-ughh.” The usually crispy, buttery texture of the croissant gummed up the rest of his jaunty prodding. ”Geez Cas, trying to kill me? Add too much yeast or something?” He discarded the rest of the offending pastry and hurried to inspect the rest of them. The sweet-almond scent that usually accompanied the little beauties smelled sour and bitter, all of them were ruined.

The spatula stopped, as Castiel took a moment to peer into the depths of the mixture below. He had ruined it, the pillowy softness had collapsed under his hand, bludgeoned by too much stirring with too much force. Perplexed, he looked back at the tray of baked goods he had set out a half an hour before. Almost half of them were subpar in some way or another, either by design or by baking.

“Apologies, I’ll remake them.” The bowl clattered in the sink, a plume of hot steam rising as Castiel blasted the ruined topping into oblivion with the nozzle.

Something had happened, something major and Gabriel hadn’t been around to see it. Shit. ”Soo..Something wrong?” He ventured, and got nothing, he hadn’t really expected any different. Castiel was stewing on something, and he was thoroughly lodged in his own noggin. Not even King Arthur could extract him now.

“Crap.” Scowling, Gabriel rolled up his sleeves and set to work, helping in small ways so he could to get them to a point where they could open. Castiel would come around, eventually, until then he would just have to set his phone down and actually do something besides flirt with customers and half-heartedly tend to tax forms.

All he knew is that this had better not have anything to do with a certain Dean Winchester, or else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For updates on my lazy ass in regards to my fics go to : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/  
> Thank you for reading, your comments give my muse wings <3


	9. Dulce de Leche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas are nursing bruised feelings, but they can't deny they have some unresolved feelings. Meanwhile, someone better keep an eye on Gabriel and Sam, mischief is brewing, and Gabriel is in too deep now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa-boy. I know, it has been AGES. Good gravy I am sorry (i say that a lot @~@). For full explinations for why I suck and am so direly slow, refer to my tumblr which will be linked below~
> 
> As usual, THANK YOU THANK YOU to all who are still with me, and who leave me lovely comments on here and on my tumblr. They keep me going <3
> 
> As usual, all characters herein are not mine, property of CW, blah blah.
> 
> I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but I've rewritten the dang thing about 5 times and I just need to stop fiddlin with it at this point. Gabriel and Sam intensive chapter, next chapter will probably be an even split, then a couple Cas/Dean-centric

Gabriel had been wrong, Cas was _definitely_ not bouncing back from this like he usually would.

The shop-owner sat, staring morosely at a _pain au chocolate_ that tasted- Well, he supposed it tasted fine, but nothing Castiel ever baked tasted ‘Fine’. That wasn’t a word that many could apply to anything Castiel set his mind to, the king of going above-and-beyond.  His phone chimed, pulling him from his silent rumination at the sub par pastry.

[So... How’s it going?]

Despite himself, a small smile quirked his thin lips. He had been trying (mainly in vain) to keep himself from texting the teen too much- _Not_ that it had anything to do with Dean; but even he could admit he had to get his shit together on this front. Sam was seventeen and he had absolutely no desire to be ‘that guy’. There was always something vaguely creepy about age gaps greater than a decade, at least when one party still has to drink a ‘virgin’ anything.

Banishing the reasoning he had been rehashing for the past week, he replied, [Ehhhh. Cas’s stuff tastes like monkey and I feel like I’m working w/ a time bomb. u?]

A moment later his phone chimed again. [Ha, yeah about the same. Whatever happened has Dean acting pissier than a wet cat.]

[No luck finding out what hppened?]

[Jack. Dean acts like he wants to toss something out of the window if I hint at asking!]

[Crap. Well @ least he’s animated, I think Cas might crumple into himself into a pile of cheap fabric & grunts if this goes on much lnger. Look @ this, even I’m losing my natural syrupy disposition!]

Gabriel attached a video after a five-minute struggle with his phone’s filing system. He’d made it a habit to start coming into work early to give Castiel a hand, inept as he was. A few mornings ago he had slipped in, hearing music sweep through the dawn-lit café. Gabriel was used to hearing a number of different forms of torture in the form of his little brother’s obsession with dusty old music, but the bee-crazy baker usually made an effort to keep it cheerful if he knew Gabriel was actually going to be there.

He'd snuck towards the doorframe, peering past it to watch as his younger brother busied himself mixing up the dough, soft words murmured to the tune of the song. He snuck his phone up, though he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the recording yet.

 

 _There was a boy_ __  
A very strange, enchanted boy  
They say he wandered very far  
Very far, over land and sea  
A little shy and sad of eye  
But very wise was he

Castiel’s whisk slid through the pale yellow mixture that was slowly building in its glossy shine. His low voice rumbled softly to the singer’s sweeping notes, though he didn’t seem to be as carefree in his sing-along as Gabriel had noticed before. The patissier paused his modest swaying to pour the brightly shining dough into a sheet pan,

 

 _And then one day,_ __  
One magic day he passed my way  
While we spoke of many things  
Fools and Kings  
This he said to me:

He plucked the tray from the cool table to cross over towards one of the ovens. A moment was spared to meticulously set a timer- again striking Gabriel as odd, as he hadn’t seen Castiel used a timer since he was in the first few years of school.

 

_"The greatest thing you'll ever learn_ _  
Is just to love and be loved in retur-_

He paused, nose scrunching as the lyrics finally sank into his morning routine. The quiet mood shattered the moment Castiel moved to flick the radio to another station, the abrupt switch to brass band nearly making Gabriel drop his phone. He’d ended the video then to report into work, though the frown that had creased his little brother’s face moments before still nagged at him.

 

[So Dean Martin and Sarah Vaughan? Your brother is pretty unique.] Sam replied and Gabriel just knew the sentence was followed with one of the kid’s side-grins that usually followed him saying something cheeky.

[Tell me about it. But see what I mean?]

[I think you have a clue here. Maybe…Hey keep the videos coming, I have an idea.]

A brunette brow quirked as the short man contemplated the text. What the hell could Gumbi be planning with the videos? Not that the curiosity would keep him from taking them, he trusted Sam enough to comply, which was an odd realization in itself.

[idea huh? Fine, fine, but I’m curious.] A smile curled his thin lips as the short man replied.

[Curiosity killed the cat]

[And satisfaction brought him back]

[Satisfaction huh? ;P]

The older man’s fingers stilled on his screen as he was forced to acknowledge the odd little flutter his stomach was trying to do. No, no, and three times No. This was a spy mission, a mutual exploration into their brother’s odd emotional Sahara, _not_ a flirting session. Not that he would flirt with-

Grumbling, Gabriel banished the rest of his derailed train of thought before he could really work himself up. [Got it Gumbi, over & out] He his send with more force than was necessary, and deposited the offending device onto the counter where he could stare at it accusingly.

“Are you going to text all day, or sweep the shop?” Castiel’s nagging spurred him into moving, even if he carefully avoided the probing look his brother was busy eyeing him with.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Dean, look.” A frown tugged at his plush mouth as a phone was unceremoniously thrust in front of his face, blocking his view of the engine he had been toying with for the past hour. The owner had made a royal mess of it, fancying himself a ‘do-it-yourselfer’, when in truth all he had done was make a hundred-dollar repair turn into a thousand dollar one. All the better for Dean’s wallet.

“Sammy kinda bus-“His nose scrunched as Sam clicked ‘play’, and the video began to blare old-timey speakeasy music, or at least, that’s what it sounded like to Dean. It took him a moment to realize what he was staring at, eyes tracing over the man’s movements, his side profile, and the meticulous manner in which he seemed to do everything. It was a new side to Cas he hadn’t seen, not quite carefree, as he looked bothered by something, but softer, more exposed. He had the all-too-real-sensation he was watching something he had no business in, and the frown on his lips only deepened.

“Yeah and? He has stale-ass taste in music.” He grumbled, swatting the phone from his line of sight and setting back to work with determination. ” Sounds like him, though…Nothing he does is normal.” Then again, that’s what had caught his eye about the man to start with. His tousled hair paired with his sad puppy-dog eyes, which were so contrary to his bristly, if not endearing personality. He couldn’t understand jokes, which was half the fun of telling them in Dean’s opinions. Castiel’s old taste in music fit well amongst his shelves of personal quirks.

His phone chimed, and a small titter of laughter from his retreating younger brother gave him a sneaking suspicion the kid had forwarded the video towards him.

“Dammit Sam, butt-out will ya?” He snapped, frown now a full-blown scowl. What was the purpose of tormenting him with the video? Castiel had made it _abundantly_ clear how he felt about Dean’s advances, so why the hell did Sam keep on? He wasn’t a stupid kid, hell Sam generally got things a hell of a lot faster than he did, and yet here he was, still chatting up that creepy baker and his frigid brother. Kid needed to date more.

None of that, however, made him delete the video once he had wiggled his phone free from his pants pocket. Why he kept it, he had no idea, yet every time his thumb hovered over ‘delete’ something made him reconsider.

Four days and two more videos later Dean knew he had made a dire mistake. He pressed play on the latest video, one that looked like Cas was making a valiant attempt to shrug himself out of whatever funk the gruff baker had worked himself in. It was a jauntier tune this time, something that Dean wouldn’t mind dancing to, but would never admit. He guessed the song was called ‘Cheek to Cheek’ since it was repeated often enough and he had a vague notion of hearing it in some foggy memory from so many years past. A small twitch of a smile was trying to work its way onto the pastry chef’s lips as he made to pour some sort of decadent looking chocolate mixture onto a slicked baking sheet. The man looked a bit rougher than usual if it were possible as if he had trouble sleeping or knowing Cas- fussing about this or that to a new degree. The realization made Dean uncomfortable, for even if he was cross and his feelings were bruised, he couldn’t say it pleased him to know something was bothering the peculiar, bee-obsessed man. Frowning faintly, he saved this video to his phone as well and flipped on the radio to start his workday, doggedly ignoring the rising brows of a grizzly looking man eyeing him from his chair behind the service counter.

“You crack your head on the lift again?” Bobby questioned at the plucky music that wafted through the small but serviceable car-repair shop.

Smirking, Dean plopped himself down on a creeper and gave a small impudent sniff.” What’s a matter, Bobby? Getting nostalgic?” Grinning, he pulled himself under some soccer mom’s minivan and got to work.

 

* * *

 

“Damn kid, you’re sneaky.” Gabriel practically giggled as he opened the video file Sam sent him after he had gotten out of school and headed over to his brother’s workplace. Without considering the ‘should I’s’ he instantly forwarded it to his brother- Who, on second thought, he was going to have to teach how to even open such a file.

By the time he got back to the kitchen, Cas was staring down at his phone in vague frustration. ”What did you send me? It’s not...Why do you keep messaging me on this thing?” He fussed, sounding every inch a disgruntled old man for being the younger sibling.

“Here- Look, you just open it like normal annnnd click, there, see?” The impish grin on his brother’s face should have tipped Castiel off that something was amiss, but it was no secret to anyone at this point that he had been out of sorts lately.

Of all the things he could expect out of Gabriel, this hadn’t even entered into his top one hundred. It looked like a car shop, and whoever was filming was angling the phone a little awkwardly ( As Sam was secretly recording from the service desk as Bobby fussed in the background), but it didn’t take long for Castiel to realize what was going on.

Dean was buried elbow’s deep in a truck’s hood, rooting around with tools Cas didn’t know the name of and streaked with motor oil,  but instead of the loud, raucous music he had heard Dean gush so fondly over before, music that he regularly listened to in the pastry shop was playing. The mechanic hummed at first as he extracted a blockish engine part covered in slick and gunk, only briefly pausing in his enjoyment of the music to scrunch his nose down at the part and mutter a “Friggin’ hell are people stupid”, before returning to the tune, this time singing. And oh his singing. Dean’s voice was lovely. Cas had a brief taste before, but hearing him now was a new experience entirely. He wouldn’t have expected such notes out of the playboy, his voice sliding over the words with a rich, yet youthful tenor. His filling bag abandoned, he held his phone in rapt attention, head quirked and eyes set. Gabriel made a quiet retreat, silently chortling as he rapidly replied to his other co-conspirator.

As the video ended, Castiel returned to earth, and with it a flurry of emotion. Why would Gabriel send him this? It seemed cruel, even for the short prankster. Dean had made it crystal clear he didn’t find Castiel worth it, but something in him doubted Dean listened to ‘ _Dream a little Dream of me’_  regularly. He had been aware that Gabriel occasionally filmed him for some reason or another, yet he figured he was doing like he always had and was sending them to their parents or sisters (despite his near constant argument against it). Gabriel and Sam did contact each other often, and while he hadn’t thought it grossly out of the ordinary, had he been wrong? But to what purpose? A music recommendation?

With a scowl so intense it threatened to collapse his _choux_ set itself upon his lips he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He’d ask Gabriel to teach him how to delete it later if he remembered, even if Dean’s voice rivaled some of the old master’s that crooned over his morning radio. There was no use torturing himself. Then again, it was a shame. Perhaps he would listen to it once more before deleting, it wasn’t like he didn’t have the room on his phone, hardly anyone ever contacted him aside from Gabriel anyway.

 

* * *

 

“I gotta give it to you stretch, this is working out better than I thought.” A small grunt escaped his peachy lips as he lobbed a ball across the park field.

“Told you so.” Sam grinned, snickering as Butterscotch went tearing after the ball with all his might. “I swear Dean has been making goo-goo eyes at his phone all week. I’m getting kinda tired of listening to it.” Butterscotch came trotting back, happily depositing the saliva-coated ball in Sam’s hand this time around, as the dog vastly preferred younger man’s arm over his owners.

“Traitor.” The older man grumbled as he was forced to watch another man play fetch with his dog. Not that he could blame him, He didn’t even like watching sports on television, let alone working on his throwing arm. ”I know what you mean, Cas is swinging from his angry face to that weird little smile he does when he doesn’t want to smile but can’t help it. Pathetic really.” It was adorable and every fiber of Gabriel’s being wishes he didn’t dislike Dean so much so that he could actually be happy that Cas was taking pleasure in something.

Wiping a hand down his flannel, Sam bobbed his shaggy head. ”Now if we can just get them talking face-to-face again. Two grown men!” Smirking, the teen leaned to jostle Gabriel, careful not to knock the other man over entirely due to their growing size difference. “Not like us huh?”

Damn when the kid smiled like that it was hard for Gabriel to do anything else but nod stupidly. He had said it before, and he’d say it again, once Sam finished topping off he would be a looker and a half. “Oh yeah, King of emotions over here. Sometimes I amaze myself with how in touch I am.” Which was a bold-ass lie, but he felt he was at least better at it than Cas. “No offense Gumbi, but I’m pretty sure you win this contest.”

Flipping his hair from his face (an action that made Gabriel titter every time), Sam grumbled, “Nothing wrong with that... What’s wrong with you know- _feeling_?” His lips pressed, automatically defensive. He had been so used to being angry all the time as a younger teen, it was only in the past couple years he had even allowed himself to feel much of anything else.  He’d be damned if he was going back to being sour at the world.

“Pump the breaks. I didn’t say it was bad.” Mirroring Sam, he leaned to bump against the other’s arm back, since he couldn’t reach his shoulder. “I like it. More people need to be like that. Saves all the bullshit. Don’t ever change kid.” Part of him wished he could handle serious situations better than he tended to. Was he any better than the other two when all he did was deflect with humor? It was still running from a situation, letting things collect in a dusty corner in his noodle until he felt like he might explode.

Placated, Sam smiled once more. He stayed leaning against the older as he watched Butterscotch sniff around the grass, more interested in licking an ant hill now than fetch. ”Don’t plan to.” He glanced at the shorter, eyes tracing his pecan coloured hair that had fallen into disarray when Gabriel tried in vain to toss the ball any significant distance.

“Hey, Gabriel?” He started, brows pulling faintly as he wrestled with the words that didn’t want to come. Gabriel angled his head up to look up at the taller teen, the corner of his lips still curled into a crooked grin. “I just um...Well, I text you a lot and stuff. Don’t you- go out? Or I mean, like don’t you have a girlfriend?-er, or boyfriend. Whatever is…cool.” All of that sounded a lot smoother in his head than it came out.

The bakery owner looked momentarily startled as if he had been prepared to answer literally anything else than that. “Heh...Ah, Well yeah I go out and stuff. Not lately, too much going on.” Which was another fat lie, he had been doing all of diddly-squat. “But nah, No ‘whatever’s. Never been good at that. Flying free and all that.” He made an insufferable boyfriend and he knew it. His eyes strayed too easily and he was as needy as they came. “What about you short-stuff?” It seemed only right to ask back, they were just talking here, right?

Colour tinged Sam’s cheeks as he momentarily cast his eyes away from the other’s whiskey gaze. “No way. I mean, my dad doesn’t know that I’m uh-“He took another tenuous glance at Gabriel, as if to gauge his reaction.”-gay. He’d flip his shit if he found out…”

A soft scoff puffed Gabriel’s fallen bangs from his forehead. ”Well, that’s some horseshit. I never understand what it mattered to parents who their kids fucked. It’s not like they’re watching. Or I hope not.” He pulled a wry face as he made an aborted shrug into Sam’s pressed frame. “My motto is fuck it. Literally.” He chortled, thinking himself devilishly clever.

“So you…don't have a preference or anything?”

“Me? Nah, what’s the fun in that?” Gabriel walked right into that one with no clue to the other’s probing. “Not to knock you or anything, go gay. I’m just not picky.”

Bobbing his head once more, Sam grew a little bolder. ”So you don’t have a type?”

Growing conscious of the warmth that the teenager radiated into his arm, Gabriel made a small ‘hmm’. ”Not really. People are like sweets to me. All different kinds, and all tasty. Especially when the two are combined.” He regretted it as soon as he said it. He should _not_ be alluding to kink-level screwing in front of a seventeen-year-old.

A sudden burst of air in the shape of a stifled laugh made Sam’s chest seize a moment. ”O-oh really? Well, I guess that answers what you get up to in your free time.” His cheeks burned thinking about it. ”Does Cas know what you do with all the extra frosting when he’s not looking?”

Now it was Gabriel’s turn to blush, which was a sensation he was _not_ used to. He didn’t get embarrassed! He was royalty when it came to being shameless. He’d gone streaking during a high school football game way-back-when on a dare for god sakes. His lips parted as he struggled to come up with a witty, disarming reply, but nothing came. Instead, he stared dumbly up at the teen, who was grinning like a cat with a mouse. Rarely did Gabriel feel like he had been bested, but in that moment he felt disarmed.

 Gabriel’s took quick stock of Sam’s face, like a snapshot in his stupor. The kid’s too-long bangs dusting the bridge of his nose, his oddly smooth skin- blessed by the gods of puberty apparently, and the little mole underneath his left eye. He was growing like a weed, already so changed from their first meeting.  Each week that ticked by changed the youth in some way. A little less gangly, a little surer. The seventeen-year old was putting his feelers out, testing the waters of what it meant to be himself.

He swallowed, a blooming panic beginning to unfurl in his stomach. If he didn’t stop looking at Sam in the next few seconds he wasn’t sure what was going to happen, not with how intent the teen’s eyes had grown in this charged moment.

A cold wet nose pressed into his left hand, startling Gabriel out his daze. He severed the connection of their eyes to turn and crouch next to his dog, heart hammering against his ribcage. “What is it Butterbuns? Getting hungry? Oh yes you are, aren’t you?” He cooed, scratching over the dog’s ears as if the canine might save him from his vile behavior.

“I guess it is getting late, I better get home before Dean lays an egg.” Sam sighed, lips pulling to the side. He had a sneaking suspicion Gabriel was purposefully avoiding meeting his eyes again. “See you later Gabriel, bye Butterscotch.” After giving the dog a quick pat he plucked his backpack from the ground and took a back step, waiting for the older man to bid him goodbye as well.

“Later Gumbi, study hard.” Gabriel waved, eyes never quite meeting Sam’s form as he reattached Butterscotch’s leash.

Sam frowned once his hypothesis was confirmed. Gabriel _was_ avoiding looking at him. With a faint huff, he turned and strode off, re-assessing his prior evaluation of the older man. Maybe Gabriel wasn’t as open with himself as he’d originally thought. King of emotions his ass.

 

* * *

 

Cas’s back ached, and all he wanted was to prop himself up in the shower and boil himself until he resembled a cooked crustacean. The past weeks had been trying. His sporadic sleep schedule hadn’t helped when he was forced to get up earlier to make up for his inevitable mistakes in his morning routine that plagued him now. He wasn’t getting enough sleep or eating enough, he knew, but he had no way to remedy the situation when he wasn’t sure what had worked him into such a funk in the first place. Periods of dourness weren’t unheard of in his life, yet it had been years since he had been in such a slump. Not since his more moody teen years anyway. He was getting too old for this nonsense already. In his mind, he was already an old man, set in his ways and desires, despite the fact that he was barely in his mid-twenties.

His fingers hooked underneath his white undershirt, preparing to strip for his shower.

A loud bang startled the grumpy patissier, making him do an awkward hop-turn to face the open hallway that separated his bedroom from the kitchen/living room area, where only a long frosted glass divider obscured the short figure that came flying into his apartment moments later.

“Dammit Gabriel, did you bang the door against-“ His chastisement feel on deaf ears as his elder brother rounded the divider and came crashing into him with all the drama of a nineteen-forties black and white film.

Gripping the scowling man’s pristine white tank, the shorter beamed his most pathetic eyes he could muster.”Cas, I need you to hit me- Or, lock me up..or...Jesus Christ Cas I think I’m cracked in the head.” He whimpered, pooching his lower lip out to properly convey how utterly pathetic he felt.

Sighing in annoyance, the taller sibling peeled Gabriel’s hands from his shirt. A louder sigh soon followed after spotting the streaks of red, blue, and brown that now mussed his once-white shirt. Gabriel had been stress-eating M&Ms again, this had to be serious. “What is it, Gabriel?” He tried to muster the appropriate tone as he sank down to sit on the bench in front of his bed, resigning himself and his back to discomfort.

Gabriel bypassed the bench entirely, and flopped on the bed, curling one of Cas’s white pillows to his chest, much to the other’s growing distress. By the end of this visit, every inch of his apartment would be coated in candy-finger prints. “No judging me.” That was never a good beginning to one of Gabriel’s stories. ”Sam wanted to see Butterscotch, he likes dogs you know? So we go to the park, play fetch and all that. We start talking and uh...I dunno somehow the topic turned. Teens!” He lamented, wiggling further to muss up his brother’s downy comforter, a bland color to cover up the bumblebee pattern sheets Gabriel had gifted Cas with for his birthday. “Long story short he asked if I was single, well yeah duh. And um..yadda yadda yadda I stick my foot in my mouth and he capitalizes on it and the next thing I know we’re having a damn rom-com moment. I honest to god think he was going to kiss me.”

His fatigue forgotten, Castiel stares awkwardly, torn between consoling Gabriel in his flustered state and the desire to smack him over the head. ”Dammit, Gabriel! You knew how much he looked up to you.” Even he wasn’t blind enough to overlook that one. Sam had been following Gabriel around like a lovesick puppy whenever he could escape Dean’s watchful eye. ”Are you sure he didn’t?” He cast a suspicious look at the thirty-two-year-old, dubious in his belief that the other had told him the whole story.

A pillow collided into Castiel’s face moments after. ”Yes, Cas I’m sure! How godawful do you think I am? I’m not going to mac on a seventeen-year-old!” Wounded that his brother would suspect him, he snatched up another pillow. “I ran like my life depended on it. I have no fucking clue what I’m going to do about it Cas.”

“Well. You could just distance yourself. Sam is that age. I’m sure he’ll get preoccupied with someone else. He’s about to go to college anyway.” Castiel reasoned, dusting off chocolate residue from the lobbed pillow with a fussy sniff.

 The older man might have sucked on a lemon from how scrunched his face grew at the mere suggestion. “I’m not going to do that to him Cas! He doesn’t have many friends.” Melting into the new pillow, Gabriel deflated, unable to sustain his usual cheer. ”You know how it is in school, you were-no offense- the odd kid out. I had my humor to skate through it. And with that weird family situation and all…” He trailed, abandoning the pillow to scrub his hands through his hair. “Some of the things he says Cas. I don’t think their Dad is just a drunk, he sounds like a grade-A asshole. I can’t just up and say ‘Nah thanks, k bye’ and shoo him away.” His chest constricted at the thought of it. He had no idea when he had grown so protective of the teen, but there was no denying it now.

 Mulling over the situation, Cas grimaced as he leaned against the mattress. “Then you’re just going to have to talk to him or decide something else. You know you can’t let him think you- Wait.” Castiel turned towards the man slowly wrecking his every possession. ”Do you have feelings for him, Gabriel?”

“What?! NO- no. No Way. I’m old, he’s tiny. I mean, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not- Stop looking at me like that.” He was floundering, he could hear the denial in his voice and he was the one protesting.

Now it was Castiel’s turn to run his hand over his face. ”Gabriel…” He sighed, unable to scold his elder brother in the face of his crestfallen visage. Instead, he held his arms out, knowing his more touchy-feely brother would enjoy the physical contact even if he acted the fool ninety-nine point nine percent of the time.

Overjoyed with the offer, Gabriel quickly accepted the blow to his dignity and dives into the hug. “Yeah, I know. I’m fucked.” He would have to talk to the kid, he just needed to find his courage, which- the last time he checked, was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to keep tabs on updates, exerts, or delays go to my tumblr at http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/   
> Thanks again :)


	10. Rhubard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean can't get Castiel out of his mind and as chance would have it, he stumbles on Castiel having interactions with a woman. Tempers flare, embarrassment ensues, and maybe for once, the boys will talk about their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I released a chapter within a two month span, I know shocking! I'm trying here, I am XD  
> A bit shorter than the prior I know, but I really wanted to get this one out and jumping into the next scene felt weird so I had to break it up this way. My beta has a new job so this one is also unbetaed but I ran it through a dozen grammar and spell check engines, still if there is anything amiss I beg your pardon, it's three in the morning and my brain is operating on fumes. 
> 
> As usual, don't own SPN or it's characters blah blah.

   It wasn’t like he was keeping tabs on Castiel, he wasn’t. Sam had been coming by the bakery so much that Dean felt it was his brotherly duty to at least stroll by and glance in just to check up on his only sibling. It was weird for the kid to find such friendship in the two men, not that Sam had ever been anything other than ‘weird’ in Dean’s opinion. The kid was too trusting, too desperate for connection for Dean to let him just run around all willy-nilly.

   It was that reasoning in mind that made him change up his route home, taking the same streets that Sam took to school to swing by _Choux Want Some More?_ On his way back from work. He was dog-tired from pulling an extra-long shift, and while his hands were worn to the bone and he was probably coated in layers of grime and grease, the extra money in his pocket felt nice. At this rate maybe he could have a sizable graduating gift for Sammy when the time came. Sam was already working so hard at getting scholarships, but kids these days always needed more and more to get their degree. Dean couldn’t say he had never wanted to attend, but it just hadn’t been feasible. Not with John, and not when he had to look after Sammy. Maybe one day, but for now he was just content that Sam was reaching for the stars, even if he was distraught at the idea of the teen flying the coop. His life had revolved around the scrawny giraffe so long that he wasn’t sure what to do outside of work and taking care of the fast-growing teen. He needed a hobby, fishing? Possibly hunting, that’s what most guys around town did so he could join in on all the beer-talk about four pointers and the one that got away.

  His musings almost carried him past the place without notice, and only when he heard a delighted laugh from a woman at the front of the store did he pause. The woman was with Cas, which was odd enough though Dean couldn’t exactly place _why_. Castiel surely knew people that he got along with just because he seemed to hate him. She was cute, cherry-red hair falling loose and lips to match. Castiel looked happier than Dean had ever seen him, and even though he still looked like he needed a three-day nap and ambush makeover he looked relaxed. Whatever the two were talking about obviously pleased them both, judging by the laughter of the woman and Castiel’s version of laughter, which usually consisted of a puff of hair or quiet chortles Dean had only heard in sparring and had longed to hear again ever since.

   Why was he still standing here? And what the hell was the acidic bubble brewing in his stomach? There was no way in hell he was actually _jealous_. He didn’t even know who the chick was! She could be some customer Cas just happened to talk to (which was stupid if he thought about it, Castiel hardly ever engaged anyone), or an old classmate. There was absolutely no reason for him to-

   What the hell?

  The redhead reached out to place a feather-light hand on Castiel’s elbow as she leaned to place a kiss upon his cheek, breaking into a broad smile afterward. “I’m glad you called, it’s been so long! I missed you.” He heard her saying as he was already walking for them. Why he didn’t know, but the bubble had grown to take over his entire body now apparently. Reason had taken a vacation and like in all situations that ended up badly for him, Dean was on autopilot.

   “I’m sorry, Gabriel is rather monopolizing- Dean?”

   The owlish look on the other man’s face should have made him disengage, but the words were already coming. ”Do you really just have a problem with me? Or is it because I’m a guy? Because if it’s a homophobic thing I really wish you would’ve given me a head’s up and spared both of us the time.” His cheeks were already hot at the sheer idiocy of calling the man out in the middle of the street, but the shade paled in comparison to how flushed the poor trench-wearing man became soon after. The other looked stunned as if Dean had hauled off and slapped him. It was a different form of panic than he’d seen out of Castiel that night in the alley as if he was desperately trying to work out a math problem in his head that he hadn’t been taught the formula for. “Well?” Whoever the woman was had also gone silent, though the arch of her brow said volumes. She probably thought he was absolutely mental, and right now Dean wouldn’t blame her.

   Castiel licked his lips and his lips parted, a tall-tell sign that he was struggling, even if the little habit of his was ridiculously distracting in such a situation. A few seconds ticked by, and the patissier didn’t seem any closer to responding. Just when Dean was about to throw up his hands, Castiel made the decision for him, spun on his heel, and retreated back into the bakery with a loud ‘clang’ of the annoying bell above the door. He’d run away like he had so many times before. Great.

   “Are you done?” The woman piped up, much to Dean’s surprise. ”Didn’t expect Castiel to have such an outspoken friend, he usually avoids that like the plague. Been like that since he was little.” The red hair gave him a once-over, appraising him with critical eyes.

   “Look…Lady, sorry for- that, but he just-“Dean puffed, shoving his fingers back through his hair hard enough to dislodge a few strands.

   “Just gets nervous and doesn’t know how to handle being insulted?” She supplied with a thin smile which was as good as any ‘fuck you’ Dean had ever gotten.

   Put on the defensive, Dean scowled faintly and quipped, “Well sorry for ruffling your boyfriend’s feathers.”

  The woman’s nose scrunched almost comically, “Boyfriend? Are you serious? Castiel is my little brother, I’m visiting for the weekend. Must not be very good friends if you don’t know that.” Which was a barb on her side because she was quite sure Castiel only ever talked about his family with very close friends, of which he didn’t have many.

   “Sister?” Well, shit. Of course, Castiel had a sister, he’d mentioned he had a veritable Brady bunch for a family one afternoon in the shop. “Well, you don’t look anything alike.” Came his flat reply, desperate not to seem as much of a fool as he’d proven himself to be.

   Smiling at the other’s defeat, the woman held out a hand. “Adopted, most of us were. Anna by the way. Can I know who is being mean to my baby brother now?”

   Swallowing thickly, Dean shakes with a stilted motion and sags. “Dean, the name’s Dean. I kind of- ahh, dammit. I didn’t mean to-“He did mean to call Castiel out, but maybe not so abruptly, or in front of someone he’d never met.

   “Uh-huh. You must be the guy Gabe was talking about. Kind of slow aren’t you?” Ignoring the indignant set to the mechanic’s plump lips, Anna plowed on. “Go easy on him, would you? He’s not a homophobe or whatever you think, he’s just hard to read.” That earned her a snort that made her want to cuff the younger, but she restrained. “If he was disgusted by you, you’d know. He has a mouth on him when he’s mad.” She made a small laugh as if recalling a ghost of a memory. Smile falling once more, she again returned a critical eye back upon the humiliated man. ”Castiel bruises easy, and never says what he’s feeling, that’s the only advice I’m giving you because I don’t want my brothers both sulking over the same situation. Use calm words and not your-“She gestured south with a faint smirk, “Down there words. If you don’t mind, I’m going to see if he went to crawl into an oven.” Shaking her head, she strode towards the door to enter into the bakery before Dean to gather up the pieces of his mental faculties.

  The hell was that all about? ‘Cas was hard to read’ was the understatement of the century. Once upon a time, Dean thought he had the other man figured out. What got a chuckle out of him, what topics he lit up on, and ones that he steered clear of, but his confidence had been shaken. Cas never said what he was feeling? That was almost hard to believe since Dean had heard the man frequently complain about damn near everything. Popular music, heat, Dean not washing his hands thoroughly, improper bee-keeping habits, the list was endless. Though, now that he thought of it, he’d never heard Castiel talk about anything other than surface-deep. Dean wasn’t the master of sharing-hour himself, but even he was prone to letting a few things slip every once in a while. It startled him to think that he wasn’t sure Castiel’s feelings on just about everything. His family, his job, if he had any friends, what was his childhood like, or if he had ever broken a bone. He knew so little and had volunteered just about the same back. They were still practical strangers even after months of communication. Neither of them knew enough about the other to be this sour. Dean was so used to wooing and walking away that he’d never considered what would happen if he wanted to do a little less wooing and a little more getting to know another. Not like it mattered now, whatever could have been seemed to have been taken out back and shot by a sea of miscommunication. He couldn’t fathom Castiel wanting anything from him, and Dean wasn’t sure if he could get over the look the other man had given him the day he’d first called him out.

   All of that aside, Dean knew he needed to bite the bullet and at least apologize. Sam would be all over his ass if he didn’t, and that was usually enough to get him to do damn near anything. The kid had a puppy-face that could bring third world dictators around if Sam stared long enough.

   The mechanic didn’t think it was a good idea to try to apologize right away, especially not with the sister anywhere near by so instead he waited until the afternoon. Sam had gone to study at the library until dinner after grumbling that Gabriel had replied to his invitation to take Butterscotch on a run saying he was going out, so at least he was only minorly worried about Castiel being accompanied. He held the door open to what looked to be the last customer, a tottering older woman contentedly packing out a box of small _petit-fours_ no doubt for some bridge or book club. Castiel was at the counter wiping down the glass and tiles with a cleaner that made the entire front room smell like citrus. It was a smell that clung to Cas, like sugar and scent of the soap he used to wash his hands between each prep.

   “Sorry we’re closing,” Castiel mumbled on automatic as he heard footsteps approach. “But you can still- Oh.” Upon looking up, the man’s face contorted into a series of emotions as if he couldn’t quite decide which one to settle on.

   “Hi. Um,” Dean let out a small exhale, popping his lips faintly as he edged inside the shop, hands shoved down into his jeans like a repentant teen. “Your uh, your sister around?” He glanced about, hoping beyond hope the woman wasn’t there today.

  Castiel looked on edge, unsure of why the other man had come back after their more-than-awkward exchange the night before. “No, she’s shopping.” He replied, albeit a bit terser than he had meant to.  Dean had made it a habit of throwing him off his guard, and the young patissier was growing fatigued of the yo-yoing emotions.

    “Ah. Well, I just came to apologize I guess. I-“His nose scrunched, and he sucked in a fortifying breath.”I have no idea why I did that. I just saw you and her and I guess I was just…jealous.” Color darkened his cheeks but, he pressed on. “I shouldn’t have said it. I was just mad. I’m not used to getting rejected I guess- Not to make it sound like I’m bragging or anything, I’m not I just, holy shit this isn’t coming out like I planned it too.” His lips quirked into an embarrassed grin, one that did funny little things to Castiel’s stomach as he tried to make sense out of Dean’s rambling apology.

   “Anyway, I came here to say I won’t bother you anymore. I get it, barking up the wrong tree. No harm no foul.” Which wasn’t the complete truth but, he had enough of trying to grasp at something that apparently wasn’t there. “So. That’s it then.” Clearing his throat he bobbed his head faintly and prepared to go not expecting Castiel to engage him back.

  Behind the counter Castiel could feel his heart in his throat as he watched Dean turn his back to him. Not bother him anymore? Dean never really _bothered_ him, no matter how much he fussed at Dean’s greasy fingers or his flagrant butchering of the French language. He had thought Dean hadn’t wanted anything more to do with him before the night before, and it sufficed to say shocked the hell out of him to have the man start in on him in the middle of the street. Anna had told him Dean had thought she was his girlfriend, which was as laughable as it was untrue. For Dean to be jealous still after what had happened before was something he was having trouble understanding. Why get jealous over someone who ‘wasn’t worth it?’.

   “Dean wait.” The words came automatically, much to his own surprise. Slowly he made his way around the counter, cleaning cloth clutched in his hands like a lifeline. “Thank you, for your apology I mean.” He swallowed, the room suddenly feeling too empty and hot for his liking. “I’m not a- a homophobe like you said.” Dean had turned back to him by now, brows raised almost to his hairline at Castiel’s response.” That night, in the alley. I didn’t mean to…You surprised me. I’m not used to people grabbing me or touching me.” It sounded pathetic to his own ears but he felt he owed a bit of an explanation.

   “So it wasn’t just me? No offense man but, you looked like I was the scum of the earth there.” Dean shifted, his posture almost as uncomfortable as Castiel’s.

    “What? No! It just made me uncomfortable…Everything makes me uncomfortable.” Castiel frowned, averting his eyes from Dean’s as the other man’s gaze begged him to continue. “I’m not good with people. Especially people- flirting, with me.” He hoped he wasn’t too bold as to call it that. Gabe had said as much but, Castiel still doubted sometimes anyone actually meant it.

    Dean exhaled as if he had been holding his breath, a weight lifted. Jesus Christ he had really thought Castiel had hated being touched by him. “Yeah, I kinda figured that part.” Dean ventured another grin and took a few steps to close some of the distance between them. “So you don’t hate my guts or anything?”

    Resisting the urge to step back as Dean stepped forward Castiel shook his head. “No, of course not. I- thought you disliked me after that night.”

   "Disliked you? I don’t think I could ever-  I mean that, no man we’re good. I’m sorry for what I said. My ego was bruised big time. After throwing all my game at you I guess I don’t know how to handle rejection that well.” He chuckled weakly, laugh fading as he noticed the increasing color on Castiel’s cheeks. Why was the other man still blushing so badly? Dean was keeping his hands to himself, and all his shirt buttons were done up for once.

   "I was rejected. Right?” Came his bold venture, mouth thick with anticipation.

The hue of Castiel’s face rivaled the night before. There was no way he could run off again, not after they were finally talking. Dean had truly been interested in him, and now he was actually asking instead of just dropping hint after hint.

   “Not exactly.” He squirmed under Dean’s gaze, ignoring the hopeful turn of the taller’s lips. There was no way Dean would want to continue whatever this was after Castiel explained everything to him. He hadn’t meant many people that ‘operated’ like he did, not in today’s society anyway. Everything always moved so fast, Castiel couldn’t stomach it.

   “Not exactly?” Dean prompted impatiently.

   The towel got another knot in his hands.” I’m demisexual Dean.” The look of confusion on Dean’s face told him he was going to have to get a lot more specific than that.” I can’t just _like_ someone. Or at least I never have before. I want to- _have to_ know someone before I know if I have feelings for them like that.”

    Dean felt another wash of relief flood him,” Damn for a minute there I didn’t know where you were going with that. What was it? Demisexual? Sorry, I’m not lingo-heavy to all this kind of stuff. Sam is, but guess I didn’t get taught that in high school.” He smiled winningly, suddenly feeling like things might actually be okay. “But, I get it man, no insta-flings or anything like that right?” He had heard similar remarks out of Sam on occasion. Part of him could understand it, even if he was the type to hop into bed with someone he had a spark with after a few hours. Some people didn’t, or couldn’t parcel themselves out like that. Hell, as long as Castiel didn’t hate his face Dean felt they had something to build on. “So that means you’d want to, maybe, hang out more? Get to know each other?” His grass-green eyes were practically dancing at this point.

    “Yes. If you’re amicable to that.” Castiel responded with large eyes, once again shocked by the ease in which Dean seemed to take things. “You’re okay with that? It wouldn’t be like dating other people.” He feared Dean would get weeks, months into this and get exasperated if nothing came of it. Castiel felt he was very amiable to Dean, and there was a quiet desire to be near him already, but he still couldn’t say if he was necessarily _attracted_ to Dean on a physical or emotional level. Dean was very handsome, anyone with eyes could see that, and Castiel could appreciate every bit of it, but none of that translated into wanting anything further with him just yet. Only time would tell, and for a large percent of the populace that wait just wasn’t worth their time. Castiel had been fooled into the phrase ‘taking it slow’ before, and people always expected more out of him faster than he was ready to give. Too often others confused sexual reservation with Cas’s vein of sexuality, and the two were in no way exclusive.

  Dean snickered. He had missed Castiel’s odd vocabulary and the gruff way he said even nice things. The slightly older man reminded the mechanic of a surly cat, who looked ruffled and dour on the outside and yet enjoyed being spoiled all the same. “Cas I kind of figured that too.” Castiel wasn’t like anyone he had ever met, and it was as fascinating as it was daunting. Dean would be lying if he said he wouldn’t be disappointed it Castiel ended up not liking him _that way_ , with luck, if things went that route he’d still get a damn good friend out of it. “But, if you think you can put up with me and don’t mind explaining more about how you want to do things- or don’t do things, I’d really like to get to know you more. So, friends?” He held out a hand this time, leaving it up to Castiel if he wanted to engage him or not.

   A smile broke over the patissier’s lips, one brighter and more open than anything Dean had seen out of Castiel yet, and damn it was beautiful. “I’d like that Dean. Friends.” He reached out to accept Dean’s hand, feeling the roughness of the man’s working hand against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to put that I hope I'm getting the demisexual part right. I am demiromantic myself so I don't feel any of this in real life so all things are learned through reading or my demisexual friend's guidance. If you have any input or suggestions towards language or the like I'd be happy to hear it. Just drop me a message on my tumblr at : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also apologies if Anna seems Out of character, I wanted to remove some of that- well unfavourable air she had in the show and still keep the essence of her personality so I hope I did that!
> 
> Thanks again for reading, you guys are the best.


	11. Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel are settling into being friends, learning to acquaint themselves with one another and exist in each other's spaces.  
> Meanwhile, Gabriel tries to spare Sam's feelings in the worst way possible. Avoiding the problem isn't going to solve anything, and in the end, Gabriel will need to be the adult and make the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ello all~ Trying to keep up posting more frequently while getting out other fanfics I've been working on as well XD Started doing fanfic challenges so more of those will likely be put out, though from varied fandoms.  
> On this note though, I'm really looking forward to writing the next couple of chapters. I'll give a hint and say things are going to get fun in the next chapter!(A-wink-a-wink) 
> 
> Thanks for reading and all the comments, they make me wibble in a good way <3~
> 
> As usual, don't any of the characters, CW, blah blah.

“Truffle oil? It's popcorn, not a night at the Ritz. Got any kettle corn?” A smile quirked Castiel’s lips as he rooted through the pantry for a flavor of popcorn more suited to Dean’s tastes. While he moved about his kitchen, the other was busy clicking through movies. At first, Dean had found something amusing about his offer to watch movies and hang out, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. The nature of Dean’s snickering suggested he might have made some form of innuendo or allusion by mistake.

“How about this? _Zoombies_ looks like a crapfest and a half, perfect for binging popcorn and beer.” Dean rose up off the couch with a lingering glare towards the once-pristine cushions. He was sure Castiel didn’t spend a lot of time on the thing, considering the pale color that begged for strains, and the fact that it was about as comfortable as a dentist chair. To him, most of Castiel’s apartment felt a little stifled, much like the peculiar man’s choice of wardrobe. He was just glad the patissier dressed down to lounge in his own home, if you could call linen pants and a sweater loungewear. Teasing aside, Castiel looked fantastic and it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself the past months.

Time was flying by, and so far Dean was doing his best to go at Castiel’s pace. No official ‘dates’, as Cas wasn’t a huge fan of going out to bars, clubs, or much of anything that involved significant crowds. In truth, they spent a lot of time walking the parks, hiking, and watching movies, not that Dean was complaining. It was the first time in a long while that he had spent any significant period of time around someone that he wasn’t related to or felt like he was related to. He could be a bit of a player, he’d admit it, but somehow he just never _clicked_ with anyone. His relationships felt like a whirlwind of lust and avidity that burned out as fast as it ignited. Now that he had to pump the breaks and focus on things other than his fantasies of seeing Cas only in his cooking apron, he realized just how little substance there had been to his past flings.

“Zoo- Is it about a Zoo? Or bees?” Cas’s face scrunched as he dumped the popcorn into the biggest bowl he owned. Ever since he had begun his true friendship with the Winchester he had made sure to have an ample supply of snacks for when the man came over. Castiel was never one to graze, and it was only due to his brother’s nagging that he remember to eat more than once a day. His mind was usually too far off to remember trivial things, and any food that he had to cook himself made it high on the list. Dean, on the other hand, took a childish pleasure in food that he found ridiculously charming. He’d once asked the man as they ate in the park, what spawned his love of food yet the taller deflected with a simple ‘Who doesn’t like food?’. There had been something about the way the mechanic had acted that told Castiel there was a story there. The longer he knew Dean Winchester the more he was discovering a genuineness born of a hard life within the man. His first impression of the bow-legged playboy hadn’t been a favorable one, it had been too easy to take the man at face-value. Now he knew that the majority was just a veneer, and somewhere buried in all the flannel and disarming smiles there was a man that was doing the best he could

“Ah, zombies in a zoo? Zoo animal zombies? Who knows, just plant your butt and let’s get to it.” After grabbing the beers from the counter and helping Castiel retrieve the other snacks they rooted themselves into the couch the best they could. “Cas, what’s up with this couch? It’s a step above concrete.” He grumbled, shifting a little further to alleviate some of the pressure from his backside.

 Dean received something he had begun to call Castiel’s ‘Excuse me bitch?’ face, a look that never failed to make him grin like a four-year-old picking on a schoolyard crush. “Well excuse me. I’m usually never in here. I generally read in the kitchen or my bedroom.” Never mind the occasional talk show, a guilty pleasure Dean had almost choked on a beverage at Castiel’s sheepish admittance. ”It’s not that bad, overly soft materials are bad for the lumbar.” He only received another round of amused chuckles in reply and decided there was little use in trying to provide Dean with statistics about the spine. “You’re hopeless.” He smirks with a small grin.

“Maybe it’s my defunct lumbar talkin’.” Dean teased, reaching over to grab a handful of popcorn while Cas started the movie.

It was in these moments, where Castiel was close, and the mood was light and comfortable, that he struggled not to let his hands and eyes wander. It had been a _while_ in his frame of reference, and while the two of them weren’t dating-dating, he couldn’t bring himself to go out to the local bar to get an itch scratched. In a way maybe this was just how his own sexuality manifested itself. While Castiel was just getting comfortable knowing him, Dean couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else right now. For all his flaws and shortcomings, he considered himself a romantic at heart, and monogamy was just his nature, official or not. He was interested in Cas even if the other man wasn’t sure of his own interest yet. Until Castiel gave him a firm ‘No’ Dean didn’t think he could turn his interests elsewhere without guilt.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice brought him back. He must have been staring at the man curled next to him too long.

With an embarrassed cough, he bobbed his head faintly and turned back to the movie, doggedly ignoring the blush creeping up his neck. It didn’t take long for his eyes to drift back, watching the various emotions that filtered over the slightly older man’s face as he watched the crapfest of a horror flick Dean had chosen. He enjoyed watching Cas when the other wasn’t aware of it. The pull of his brows or the faint scoff that bubbled in his throat when he found something silly. Castiel made a lot of quiet noises, never one to be overly vocal. A soft grunt of indignance, a ‘hmm’ of consideration, or the fluttery whuff of air that constituted an aborted laugh. He cataloged each and every reaction like coins to tuck away.

“Dean, you’re staring again, do I have something on me?” The man scrubbed a self-conscious sleeve over his cheek.

 Flushing once more Dean offered a sheepish grin, “Sorry. I was just-“He trailed, struggling to explain without pressuring Castiel into something too fast. “Feel free to say no, no pressure here, but if you’re okay with it do you think I could, put my arm on your shoulders?” He felt like an awkward teenager even asking, but all the reading he’d been doing online told him to ask permission and to know Castiel’s comfort levels above all else.

The blue eyes staring back at him had gotten so large that Dean was beginning to think he’d fucked up. Had he tried something too soon? Maybe Castiel just wasn’t an affection person to start with, friends or not. Was it too strange for a friend to ask that? Did he have the right to ask that in the first place?

Thankfully before Dean worked himself up into too much of an internal catastrophe Castiel gave a slow, considered nod. “I think that would be alright.” He rumbled a quiet reply, inwardly amazed that Dean had asked. The mechanic had been a lot more understanding and open to learning than Castiel had ever expected. During the course of their friendship, he had seen Dean jot down keywords to google or ask Sam about, and had even begun to branch out in his education much to Sam’s exasperation. Apparently, Dean had tried to have a serious talk with the younger boy about what to expect in his first year in college and the tired teen had bowed out somewhere after consent had led into a conversation about safe words.

“Awesome.” Dean grinned anew as he casually let his left arm slide up to rest loosely on the back of the couch cushion where only his jacket sleeve and the faint press of his arm rested upon Castiel’s shoulders.

A faint heat radiated from behind him as Castiel picked at a few more pieces of popcorn. His mind turned from the movie to the sensation of having the other man so close, only separated by a bowl of popcorn that sat equally propped by their legs. The feelings of Dean’s arm resting gently upon him wasn’t uncomfortable, another surprise to throw on the growing pile. A month ago he would have squirmed out of the contact with all the desperation of an aged cat, but now he found the presence comfortable. It was a word that he was attributing towards Dean more and more of late. _Comfortable_. The man had engrained himself within Castiel’s normal life seamlessly. Through scattered texts (Cas was beginning to figure out how to reply with minimal typos), phone calls, and their handful of encounters throughout the weeks Dean had become not only a friend but a close one. He had scarcely felt the level of comfort he felt around Dean with many others, as friends had come and gone out of his life as easily as water. Personalities too often clashed, or work schedules tore apart hangouts to where it all became too much trouble in the end. Dean, however, made all of that feel effortless.

Their close workplaces made stopping by on lunch breaks a five-minute venture, and their living spaces were within ten. Castiel had only visited Dean’s home a few times mainly due to John Winchester’s transit habit of wandering in and out as arbitrarily as possible. After a brief meeting with the man, who had looked at Castiel with all the warmth of a frozen tundra, it had been decided perhaps it was best to keep home-visits to the patissier’s condo.

Now that the both of them could focus on the rest of the movie the remaining time was spent tossing out smirked jeers and rolling their eyes until their eyeballs ached. Dean’s commentary always made Castiel chuckled softly or shake his head, and Castiel’s flat barbs made Dean’s sides ache. As the credits rolled they both uttered a deep sigh as if just relieved they had gotten through it without suffering a major brain hemorrhage.

“Nothin’ like a shitty movie with a friend huh?” Dean snickered as he drained the rest of his second beer,” Hey, Sammy is still being a good little nerd and is out studying, why don’t I cook for us since I don’t have to go home early?” Dean offered, grinning at the way Castiel perked up immediately. It never ceased to amuse him how little interest Castiel had in cooking actual meals considering his job title.  
  
“If you’d like I would very much appreciate it. To be honest I probably would have just heated up some soup and called it a night.” Castiel had settled into the life of a fourty-year old cat woman without the cats according to Dean’s good natured teasing.  
  
Dean popped up from the couch, all too grateful for the chance to stretch despite having such a good time enjoying his new-found contentment in ‘snuggling’ Cas. “Should we run to the store or do you have stuff here I could work with?” He inquired as he skirted around the furniture to inspect the kitchen.

“I have some things. I’ve been trying to be more responsible about eating, especially since Gabriel has started being so absent lately.” It was odd, his brother had always been the type to enjoy going out, yet he had seemed to do so with an abandon lately. He was a grown man and could do as he pleased, but Castiel still reserved the right to fuss every now and then.

Glancing over his shoulder as he dug around the freezer, Dean quirked a brow.” Huh really? Well do me a favor and tell your short-stack of a brother to reply to my brother occasionally, Sam has been looking like he’s been suckin lemons.” Not that he really _wanted_ Gabriel talking to Sammy, but he also disliked the idea of someone ignoring his little brother. “Hot damn, I think we’ve got ourselves the making of some burgers.” He grinned, tugging out from ground beef to defrost. “I guess I can work with this fancy-ass bread. Was is it anyway? Cibata? Chibata?” He inspected the package of bread Castiel had snagged from the grocery a day before, lips pressed in an appraising line. Whatever, it was bunnable bread and it tasted pretty damn good after he took a test-pinch.

Chuckling, Castiel moved to help Dean set up the ingredients. Dean buzzed around his neglected kitchen, chatting about the garage and snickering at the meticulous way Castiel cut the potatoes for the fries.  Seeing the other man so content in his kitchen, wearing the plain black apron Castiel usually wore to bake in at home made a warm feeling spread in his chest. It was immensely comfortable, and such was the only way the antisocial man could describe it. Dean made him feel comfortable, which didn’t seem all too exciting to an outside party, but to Castiel, it meant the world.

“Hold on I think I have some smoked salt around here that Anna gave me in a seasoning kit.” Castiel offered, all too happy to work alongside Dean. He hadn’t enjoyed cooking this much in a long, long time.

 

* * *

 

 

Gabriel’s phone buzzed, dancing across the surface of the bar counter until he plucked it up, excusing himself from the faintly annoyed look of a very attractive brunette that was about as interesting as a stump.

[Hellloo? I asked you a question, it’s important!] Poor little Gumbi had asked him a few hours ago for help with some of his homework, but Gabriel had been too chicken to reply until he could form up an excuse.

[Sorry Sammich, 3 cocktails in alrdy & chatting up smthing leggy & low standards. Raincheck?] He replied and set the phone back on the bar next to his drink that was a watered down mess by now. He just wasn’t in the mood for it, but he could make an attempt to go through the motions if only to convince himself everything was fine.

His phone didn’t buzz again for the rest of the night, which was odd. Usually, Sam gripped at him more than that, a petulant reply about being an old bar creeper, or telling him to drink water. By three the next afternoon Gabriel was getting worried. He’d wanted Sam to text him less without having to tell him sure, that would have been _way_ too confrontational for his tastes, but now that there was silence he felt unnerved.

He jumped, phone buzzing in his pocket. Sighing with relief, he hurried to read.

[Are you too hungover to help me now? Dean has no clue and Bobby is nooo help.] There was a tone of irritation in that text, Gabriel could just feel it. Chewing on his lower lip, the older man mused on how to bow out once more. Glancing around the shop, he could hear Castiel quietly humming to himself, a rarity at this time of day. The bastard was too happy lately, not that he was jealous or anything. He just...worried that’s all.

[Knee-deep in tax forms. When’s the due date?] He lied like a heel, doing nothing more than leaning against the counter of the front case and staring into his coffee cup for the past twenty minutes. 

[Tomorrow. You know what, nevermind. If you don’t want to talk to me then just say so. You’ve been dodging me for weeks.] The kid’s reply made him flinch. He didn’t want Sam to think he was avoiding him! Even if he was doing just that. How could he tell the teen that things were getting weird fast and he was just trying to be his age for once and make a good call?

[Whoa, rewind it tall, plaid, and pouty.] He tried typing something four different times before giving up, [You win. I’ll help. Come on by near closing, I really am supposed to be helping Cas get some things boxed up.] Which was actually true, they had a stack of pastel coloured cupcakes to box up for a bridal shower pick-up in the morning.

Sam took so long to reply Gabriel thought he had actually given up entirely, but after thirty minutes came a petulant [K] and the bakery owner had a few hours to sit and sweat. There was no way he could continue skirting the kid because of his guilty conscience, but he in no way wanted to hurt the teen’s feelings either, something that seemed utterly impossible at this point. Teenagers were notorious for thinking they were more mature than they were, he should know, he had been a doozy and a half at that age.

“You’re a grown ass man. Get it together.” He murmured to himself.

“What? Are you going to help me or not? I’m meeting Dean at six.” Castiel’s voice made Gabriel prickle nearly out of his shoes.

“Yeah yeah, coming. Don’t get your sensible boxers in a bind. You’ll meet your grease-monkey on time.” He snarked easily, burying his nerves in good nature teasing. Like anyone with avoidance issues, he’d deal with this particular problem later.

All too soon they finished boxing up cookies, and Castiel hurried to change out of his coat and into a fresh change of clothing. He was wearing a navy shirt with faint red pinstripes that he had seen his brother wear all of once. Gabriel would know, he had bought the damn thing for him in an attempt to liven up his drab wardrobe choices. Who would have known that a kid known for wearing an eclectic blend of oversized sweaters and combat boots as a teen would have grown up to be so damn boring?

“Well well, lookit you.” Gabriel whistled, chuckling as Castiel shot him a withering glare and slung his trench over his shoulders, effectively ruining the lines his shirt and jeans created. Gabriel sighed tragically.

“Why are you still here anyway?” Castiel asked as he righted his collar, silently debating on if he wanted to wear a tie or not. They were only going to grab dinner and go bowling, a more ‘adventurous’ outing than they usually had, but Castiel wasn’t sure if he was too casual or not. In the end, he decided he would forgo the tie and save it for a more appropriate venue.

Effectively caught, Gabriel smiled disarmingly. “Sam-I-am is stopping by so I can run over a few pesky homework problems.” He didn’t like the way Castiel was looking at him after he said that. “I figured we’d stay here for a bit before he goes on to the library.” He continued smiling in an effort to combat his own nerves.

“Gabriel…You know how the boy feels about you. It isn’t nice.” Castiel’s low voice rumbled as if he was the elder.

Smile wavering, Gabriel toyed with a ribbon curl discarded from their wrapping. “I’ll take care of it okay? No funny business.” He knew Castiel trusted him to not be a god-awful human being, but the other man knew how Gabriel folded when faced with a pretty face and a sad back story. While Castiel had always been a sensitive soul, Gabriel had also brought home his fair share of injured animals he found on the side of the street as a kid. Even Castiel hadn’t been enthused on the occasion the then thirteen-year-old had come home bearing a skunk that had its back leg crushed by a passing car. It had taken weeks for mother to get the smell out of the kitchen and garage.

Shrugging in defeat Castiel gave him one more appraising stare before saying his goodbyes, too looking forward to his time out with Dean to sit and babysit Gabriel’s bad decision making.

Thirty minutes later Gabriel found himself fixing two cups of tea and leaning over a textbook, doggedly ignoring the looks the seventeen-year-old was shooting him all the while.

“Ah, I get it. Your teacher is shit at explanation, you just take this-“He pointed, eyes flicking up from the textbook to see if the other was paying attention. He didn’t even make it through the rest of the sentence before Sam finally snapped.

“Why’ve you been ignoring me?” The kid wanted to sound mad, but in reality, he just sounded hurt, and Gabriel’s chest constricted at knowing he was the cause.

The vertically challenged man straightened, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he was when faced with the towering puppy dog of a teen. “I haven’t exactly-“Sam fixed him with a look and Gabriel dried up that train of thought real quick,”-It’s just. Don’t you think things might have gotten a little, well, inappropriate? I mean plotting our brothers together is one thing but…” He trailed, unwilling to bring up the instance in the park.

Sam managed to look pained and embarrassed at the same time. “So?” He puffed, daring Gabriel to continue. “I’m seventeen, I’m old enough.” He insisted, tilting his chin up in defiance.

Not to be charmed by now adorable the teen was when he was trying to get his way, Gabriel pressed. “And I’m thirty-two. Biiiig age difference there Gumbi.” Five-year gaps here and there in adulthood were no big deal, hell the older one got the more shrug-worthy it became, but the only thing Sam could do legally at this point was drive a damn car. Gabriel was not about to entertain romantic notions about someone that still had a curfew. He might have done a lot of questionable things in his life, but he wasn’t about to cross the threshold into _that_ level of bullshit. “I just think maybe you’d be more suited for people more your age-“ Oh god, there it was, Sam was wilting fast as he was taking the very real chance of making the kid cry if he continued. Gabriel shut his trap, pinned by the awkwardness of having to be an adult and not wanting to trample all over someone’s feelings.

Sam turned off slightly, dark green’s covered by his fringe of unruly hair. “More people my age?” He snorted tersely. Oh yes, as if that wasn’t obvious. He had never been good at making lasting friends, either by some divine flaw of his, or the off chance it really was everyone else. Admittedly he had been a fiery adolescent, prone to getting in fights and snapping, but he had long grown out of such childishness as soon as a dream had been seeded in his young mind. It had been easier to leave the pains of adolescence behind when he was working towards something, but even then, he was lonely. The only friend he’d had, up and moved when the news of her being a lesbian had led to some very real tensions with her family. She had moved with her mother last year, not that Sam could blame her.

“I don’t have any friends my age.” He replied, trying not to seem as bruised as he felt. Acting like a kid now was no way to convince Gabriel as anything. “Everyone at school are assholes and close-minded.” There was already a rumor circulating of him being gay, even after he had briefly dated a girl in his grade to keep people from vilifying him the way they had done Charlie.

Dammit, this was exactly why he should have done this over the phone, or taken the real douchebag way out and texted. Seeing Sam’s face now, open and raw, made the uncomfortable tightness in Gabriel’s chest feel like it would crush the life out of him.” Hey, buck up Bambi. You’re in the homestretch now.” It was hollow but at least it was true. Sam only had to make it through this year before he could flip off everyone in his wake and live any way he damn well pleased at college.  
  
Smirking once more, Sam gave a listless shrug. “Then can’t we be friends till then?” His voice was so small for someone as big as the teen was turning out to be.

Dammit, dammit, triple dammit.

Gabriel sighed, crumpling under the puppy dog eyes and beaten look the teen was broadcasting loud and clear. “Come’ere.” He groaned in defeat, holding out his arms to pull the younger into a comforting hug. “Fine, fine, you win. Damn kid, anyone ever tell you, you have eyes thought could make the devil himself feel bad?” He grumbled, patting Sam’s back and trying to ignore the small grin pressing into his shoulder.

After a moment he broke the hug, holding the other at arm’s length to level an all-too-serious gaze his way. It was hard trying to look like a responsible adult when the kid was growing what felt like five feet every week. “ _But_ only that. Got me? Friends. I might be a dirty old man, but I’m not that creepy.”

With a pout still lingering over his lips, Sam acquiesced. “Fine. Friends.” He nodded, the same disarming look that had taken Gabriel off-guard in the park that day sliding over his handsome features. “For now.” God help him was Gabriel going to try and ignore that comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Cas/Dean centric~
> 
> If anyone wants updates/timelines/details on other stories I'll be working on just slide over to : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search under #Neon-writes


	12. Coconut Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean can't help but be driven to distraction after spending so much time with Castiel. Feeling like a giddy teen with a crush the size of texas, some things were bound to happen. His libido usually ran the show, he just wanted it to behave long enough not to scare off a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there~ No Gabriel/Sam in this chapter as Cas and Dean get closer. A-wink a-wink. I know the Bottom!Dean purists will rage at me for this one, but bare with me. I'm team switch ;)  
> Next chapter is already in the works, and things will get dicey for all the boys~ 
> 
> As usual, thank you so much for all that comment both here and off of other platforms that lead to here. Seriously I wouldn't write without them, they give me motivation not to hurl myself into a pit and continue writing. You all rock.

” Now _this_ is a couch.”   
 Dean melted into the plushness of Castiel’s new couch with a grateful sigh, grinning broadly as he shifted his shoulders into the back cushion. The color left something to be deserved- a uniform beige that was neither offense or stimulating in the least, quite like Castiel’s favorite coat, but he’d let it slide. Baby steps.

Smirking softly, Castiel passed off a beer to Dean as he nestled into the corner of his furniture. ”It better be, took over an hour for them to figure out how to get the old one out, and this one in.” He would admit that it was a nice change and seeing the simple joy it gave Dean to have some place to relax with him was reason enough. Their movie-nights had become a highlight of his week, something to look forward to when old women groused at the bakery, and the world began to wear on him. Dean was a fresh breeze, fanning out the stagnating presence of his otherwise monotonous routine.

“Thanks. So what gives? Did you get that tired of me complaining?” Dean took a swig of the beer, nose crinkling a moment as he tried to decide if he liked the amber liquid or not. Cas never could just buy regular ol’ everyday beer, oh no, it was always imported and tasted- Well it tasted great usually, but it was the principle of the thing. Why fancy-up beer? It was just like his popcorn, nothing was ever simple with his gruff-voiced friend. That was part of his charm.

A near-fond smile curled Castiel’s pink lips as Dean gave into the beer and took another sip, finding it favourable. “Well, since spending so much more time on the old one, I did find it...lacking. Though I can’t see how that posture is any more comfortable.” His smile turned wry.

Dean sniffed defensively, slumped into the merciful cushions so far his severe grade-school teacher would have a stroke. “That’s the _point_ , it’s not called ‘couch ruler’, but ‘ _couch potato’_. So here I am.” Castiel’s exasperated chuckles sent a pervasive warmth through him, and he straightened to get into a position more company-friendly.  


“What are we watching tonight?” Castiel settled beside Dean, taking a position he’d been occupying over two weeks ago when Dean had first asked for his close company. Dean’s arm draped over his shoulders, sides meeting where heat transferred between them had taken on an effortless ease. They slotted together despite their differences, a foil to each other’s eccentricities that for a few hours a night, evened into an amicable leisure.

Trying to keep the sappy look of happiness from his face, Dean cleared his throat and clicked through their options.” Let’s keep with the classics. You’re _really_ behind.” He clicked on _Alien_ , looking forward to seeing Castiel’s reactions throughout the classic sci-fi flick.

With a practiced roll of his eyes, the shorter settled in for the latest must-see, ever amused at what made Dean’s top lists. He took pleasure in many things Castiel had never been much exposed to a child; movies, junk food, lazy car rides. Simple things that made up little pieces of Dean’s personality. He’d gathered it was largely due to having an absent parent most of his childhood, where such things were available and frequent. He’d put so much effort into Sam once he’d been old enough to know better, it was no wonder the two siblings were like night and day.

Instinctually, Castiel leaned close, a tide of protectiveness rising within him when he thought about the little bits of Dean’s past he had managed to unearth. He greatly admired him, a peculiar feeling considering how much he’d disliked him when they first met. Surface-level Dean was far, _far_ different from the man he had gotten to know. People that casually met the Dean couldn’t fathom the depths.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice prompted him out of his musing. Odd, usually it was Dean that stared, not him. Cheeks colouring faintly he turned his attentions back to the movie, tucking his legs up beside of him so he could fully lean into the other’s side.

Dean’s bright eyes watched Castiel with the still air that one would regard a near-wild animal they were trying to win the affections of as his arm curled a little tighter.  The feeling wasn’t all that uncommon, but today Dean felt as if he had to pay attention, less he miss something. Castiel had never pressed so much into the position before, they were practically _snuggling_.

Gulping down hope, Dean’s eyes flicked back towards the screen, though he was only dimly aware of what was happening. Each shift of the Castiel’s body against his own pulled his attentions back to their shared heat. Half way through the film Castiel rested his head against Dean’s shoulder, his wild, dark hair tickling faintly at his neck. The patissier smelled like cinnamon today, spicy with a hint of sweet and orange. It clung to his hair and skin like perfume most days, but he was rarely ever this close to notice for long. The smell filled Dean’s senses, so different from the usual scent of oil and metal of his work day.

The way someone smelled always gotten him. He blamed his usual boundless appetitive for that aspect of his baser instincts, but damn did Castiel smell good.

Castiel was shifting forward causing Dean to float back from his reverie to see what he was doing. Castiel bent towards the coffee table to set down his beer, his dark navy shirt riding as he stretched. He had to settle a hand on Dean’s leg to keep from tipping forward as his legs were still tucked up on the couch, strong fingers gripping loosely to steady himself as he leaned back up to settle back into his original position.

The whole movement was in no way out of the ordinary, but something about watching Castiel move, combined with the lingering smell of cinnamon and sweet did funny little things to his stomach- and then some. He’d never spent so much time around anyone that he didn’t consider family without _seeking_ , and the long run of behaving was beginning to make him feel like a teenager all over again. Not that he blamed Castiel in the least, more like he was having a hard time telling his nethers to calm the hell down the more smitten he became.

 As Dean inwardly wrestled with his libido Castiel eased back into his ‘spot’ against him. Half a minute later his bright blues glanced at Dean’s profile, finding the barest hint of tension around his impossibly green eyes. Something about Dean didn’t feel as relaxed as usual as if his mind was elsewhere. Even a well-delivered action line in the movie didn’t garner the round of crooked-grinned chuckles it usually would. He felt Dean shift a bit, the tension leaking into his muscles for a brief moment.

Castiel’s eyes trailed down to the thigh his hand still rested against, only to pause midway. The cause of Dean’s slight wiggling wasn’t hard to miss now that he was looking, pressed slightly against the crotch of his denim. His face flooded bright and his hand withdrew fast enough that it got Dean’s attention, who soon sported a blush to match.

“S-sorry. It just kind of- um has a mind of its own. I didn’t expect- or don’t. It’ll go away.” Dean stammered, his blush creeping up into his ears.

“It’s fine.” Castiel awkwardly reassured, even if his eyes were torn between looking at the cute redness of Dean’s ears and the desire to let his eyes trail back down. It was a curiosity, to say the least. Had their proximity gotten the other…distracted? They had cuddled on the couch plenty of times before, even if this time he had been a little more liberal with his leaning. Had that made the difference? Had Dean become aroused because of him?” Was it something I did?” Castiel asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

The question caught Dean off guard, ”Um. Kind of?” He near-squeaked, “It’s just..you smell _really_ good, I mean, you always do but, I guess today is a little different?” Dean struggled through the explanation, all too aware that Castiel’s eyes had gone back to his crotch halfway through the explanation. He had expected Castiel to ignore him, or get up, _anything_ other than the state at him with curiosity etched in his gaze.

“Oh? I made something new this morning, a cinnamon-apple compote for a bread pudding with candied orange peels.” Castiel explained, feeling a sensation he hadn’t possessed in a long while- if at all. In some ways, he was glad to have been able to catch Dean’s attention, though he wasn’t sure why. Dean hadn’t been at all shy when they had first met, but this was different than off-handed perverted comments or peering down his shirt. He hadn’t brought up anything that even hinted at sexual desire since they had first begun spending time together, and the gnawing unease that usually left Castiel embarrassed and heading for the hills wasn’t there. Instead, it left an itch to explore a bit more of Dean that hadn’t been shown to him yet.

“Yeah that, I could just smell it in your hair and then when you put your- Um…Cas?” Dean gulped hard as Castiel’s hand reached out to slide against his inner thigh, making his whole being tense from shock alone.

“Can…I see?” Castiel hesitated a moment, “Is that okay?” For a moment he was sure he must have done something wrong because the look Dean was giving him made him look as if he had just asked to start a cross-country journey together in their underwear.

Holy shit. _Holy shit_. Dean hadn’t expected that even more than Castiel’s curiosity to why he had popped a boner in the first place. He had begun to figure Castiel had just wanted to keep themselves as friends and that was it, which would have been fine, if not massively disappointing in some areas. Dean had come to enjoy spending time with Castiel as a friend, and if it came down to it, he would be happy to just have Castiel as that rather than not at all.

“Are _you_ sure?” Dean replied thinly, near shivering when Castiel’s hands flexed slightly in response to his further wiggling. “You don’t have to Cas..”

 Licking his lips against a mouth that had gone abruptly dry, Castiel slowly bobbed his head and let his hand trail a little higher. “If…you don’t mind. I’m..curious.” He’d never seen another man up close like this before. He’d never really wanted to, and anyone he had ever thought of entertaining fantasies over had usually moved on after he turned out to be a ‘cold fish’. He always managed to lag behind everyone else’s pace, and eventually, he had just given up entirely. Now here was Dean, cautioning him to be in his comfort zone even when his body was clearly saying ‘go for it’. It was…reassuring.

Castiel’s fingers slid up over the swell of Dean’s jeans, and the other sucked in a soft hissing breath. His palm slid over it, feeling as Dean grew under his inquisitive touch. He watched as Dean’s legs widened a bit until he could nearly feel the length and width of him through the fabric. With cautious fingers, Castiel moved towards Dean’s waistband, all too glad when he received some assistance in undoing his belt and button fly.

Castiel felt a flutter of nerves and something akin to excitement as his fingers ghosted the beginning of Dean’s ‘V’, a small swath of skin visible between the hem of his shirt and his unbuttoned jeans. Part of him was surprised to find Dean’s lower abdomen hairless, the skin smooth, sleek, and kissed by the sun. “You shave?” His fingers slid over the smooth skin once more, marveling at just how pleasant Dean felt under his touch. He had expected- he wasn’t quite sure. Dean was such a lax looking man, but outside of coming out of work, he’d never been one to be slovenly or unkempt. Castiel had never seen his hair grow out too long, or his face boast scruff, quite unlike his own habits when he had two consecutive days off.

 Dean was sure Castiel was trying to kill him with all of the questions, but the man’s fingers inching ever closer south stayed any quip that might have formed on his tongue.”Y-yeah, just a personal prefer- ahh, preference.” The taller man shivered as Castiel’s long fingers slid up underneath the band of his boxers. 

“Oh..” Castiel’s eyes widened as he felt the Dean’s ‘preference’ all the way down. He swallowed hard, torn between the distraction of the hairless warm skin underneath the pads of his fingertips, and the hot length that rested against the back of his hand. The latter proved to be the most drawing, and soon he was shifting on the couch as he freed Dean of the confines of his boxers and jeans. At first, Castiel thought he must have done something wrong from the sharp intake of air that pulled at Dean’s stomach, but the small, eager twitch of his hips said otherwise.

The virgin wasn’t _completely_ naïve. While he had never slept with anyone he was still quite acquainted with his own person to know what to do, he had just never had this much ‘hands on experience’ with another. His hand closed around Dean’s erection, heavy in his hold and curved back against his palm. Slipping his hand up the shaft, his index and middle finger curled around the deep rouge of Dean’s cock head.

As his fingers explored his eyes swayed back and forth from studying Dean’s face, noting the charming flutter of his eyelids if he rubbed his finger against his slit, to watching his ministrations. A bead of slick welled, dampening his fingertips and causing another full-body twitch to dance along Dean’s body. Emboldened, he ceased the inquisitive roving and gently gripped his length once more, letting his hand slip up and down with increasing confidence.

“Sh-shit Cas.” Dean sighed a ragged breath as he squeezed handfuls of the plush couch to keep from reaching out for the other man. There was no way he was going to risk going too far too fast when Castiel was giving him a handjob. He had been accused of thinking below the belt too often, but for once his brain and his dick were meeting in the middle. He didn’t know if this was going to be a one-off thing, or maybe Castiel was getting more comfortable with him, all he knew was that his prior musings of Castiel having magic fingers were spot on. His fingers were smooth and soft, gliding up and down his thick shaft with the accumulated pre. His grip waxed and waned with the motion, squeezing him in all the right places and letting up when it became too much. Later on, when his mind wasn’t consumed, he’d giggle over the memories he had of Castiel kneading bread dough with those same hands. No wonder he was good at this. Perhaps it was the situation or just who was actually touching him, but he hadn’t felt this turned on in ages. It didn’t take long for him to feel the drawing in his abdomen suck the breath from his lungs and make him quiver which each new stroke.

It wasn’t until Castiel changed his grip and let his thumb close over his head and rub in slow circles did he lose it. “ _F-fuck..”_ He hissed, bowing his body till he could grasp onto Castiel’s shoulder with his right hand to steady himself as he came into Castiel’s hand. He groaned deep into the other’s shoulder, spilling pulse after pulse over Cas’s talented fingers, milky white dribbling down to coat each digit.  
  
Heat crept up Castiel’s neck as he felt Dean shift, his breath ghosting his neck as he groaned through his orgasm. Dean’s cum was flowing over his hand, the last few wet jerks milking another deep moan from Dean’s lips that sent goosebumps along Castiel’s skin.

His friend stilled against him, breathing softly as he recovered, shifting to right his clothing after a moment’s pause. Castiel stared down at his glistening fingers, blush hot on his cheeks as he surveyed the rapidly cooling liquid. Realizing he was in danger of staining his new couch, he abruptly stood to hurry off to the bathroom, pausing half-way into the hallway to quickly address the quizzical man on the sofa.

“I’m just..going to wash my hands.Not..run away, or anything.” He hastily added, wanting to make sure Dean knew he hadn’t found anything about that repulsive. Castiel was never fond of things lingering on his skin, even in the shop things like honey and sugar were quickly washed off once prep work was accomplished. ‘Sticky’ was not a state of being he enjoyed being in.

Chuckling in relief, Dean settled back to let his mind process just what the hell had happened. If someone would have said Castiel would consent to get him off in any way at the beginning of the day he would have laughed in their faces. Better yet, he hadn’t looked as if it had been unpleasant for him either if anything Castiel had seemed enthralled. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of any of it, or where it left them, but he had realized months ago it was just best to go along at Castiel’s pace and worry about the details later. For now, he’d just take the win.

 

* * *

 

 

To say things were a bit awkward would be an understatement. Neither men knew how to navigate this new territory they had entered into. Even if they had time making eye-contact, Dean was determined to smooth over this side-stepping they were doing and plow ahead. He wasn’t about to lose Castiel to something as silly as teen-level fooling around.

Dean had noticed something off about him lately, and he didn’t think much of it until one day Castiel stopped by his workplace. It had become a pleasant surprise occasionally for the patissier to pop by on Tuesday when he closed up the cafe early with lunch and leftover baked goods, which was fast making him a lot of admirers at the car-shop. Nothing won over a bunch of grease monkeys like good food, but perhaps he was just biased.

Dean noticed Castiel’s eyes wandering as he shimmied out from under a car, shirt unbuttoned and streaked near head-to-toe from a leak in the vehicle's oil line. Castiel wasn’t a man that could easily be covert, and his eyes kept finding their way back as the mechanic scrubbed a wet towel over his hands, arms, and face to clear off a bit of the grime. If he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn Cas was taking in the bare swath of skin from his sternum to his navel. Months ago, he might have called him on it, but a tentative thrill had built itself in his stomach at the notion that _perhaps_ Castiel was warming up to him in more ways than one.

Fortunately, Dean didn’t have to speculate for very long.

“You’re serious? People actually buy that?” Dean’s eyes rolled as he slung a towel over his shoulder and set to chopping up onions. Gabriel had taken Sam to some kind of awful sounding documentary showing at the alternative theater downtown, which had freed up the Friday night for him and Cas to have dinner together. Castiel thought it odd his brother would sit through something that would no doubt put him into a coma, but the older man had been sincerely trying to be friends with the teen if only to alleviate some of Sam’s pre-college anxieties.

 Smirking, Castiel busied himself boiling water and getting the pasta from the cabinet. “If I have to hear ‘deconstructed’ one more time I might set fire to the shop. Where is the artistry in that? Might as well make a trifle and give up.” The patissier grumbled, venting another day of listening to a middle-aged woman blather on about some new wedding cake trend while shoving fifteen different ‘pins’ in his face from her mobile. As if he knew what a ‘pin’ was. Gabriel was the one in charge of their website and social media platform, for obvious reasons.

Chuckling despite not understanding half of what Castiel was complaining about, Dean bobbed his head as he began on the pasta sauce. “I hear you. I had a guy come in today with his engine gummed up to hell because he’d been putting the cheap shit in his Audi. You can’t cure stupid Cas, don’t even try.”

Nights like these were increasingly distracting. As they settled into their cooking routine, Castiel turned on the radio as they worked. As he hummed Dean would usually sing, low and near meditative as he cooked. It was one of those nights when a song would come on that got Dean moving, head bobbing or hips swaying as he stirred. Castiel sat at the kitchen island, watching the man work after he had gotten out the plates and fixed the salad. Watching Dean now felt different than it had the last few times, which he had been content to hum along and work on next week’s menu line-up. His eyes strayed from his legal pad, following up the line of Dean’s pushed-up shirt sleeves and down the line of his waist and fitted jeans. The pleasant shape of his backside accented by the denim as he moved to the tune. Even the curve of his bowed legs, all the more pronounced by his stance in front of the stove. It wasn’t the warmth of the kitchen that made him feel like shedding his jacket. This kind of preoccupation had been happening an awful lot lately ever since he’d-

 _Don't go nowhere_ __  
What do I care?  
Your kisses are worth waitin' for  
Believe me

The music seeped into his memories, and he struggled to put his attention back to the yellow lined paper below his poised hand. He could recall the look over Dean’s face as his fingers wrapped around him, curious and purposeful. The flutter of his eyelids as he swirled his thumb, or the little jerks of his muscles on a hard stroke.

_Ain’t misbehavin’_

Or the sound he made when he came.

_I'm savin' my love for you_

He swallowed hard as the song ended and shifted into something a slower and more melancholy, allowing him to extract his mind firmly from the gutter. That was a place he wasn’t used to finding his train of thought.

“Dinner’s ready.” Dean’s voice brought him out of his internal struggle and he was all too grateful to help him set up less the discomfort below the belt grew worse.

By the time it was time to settle on the couch Castiel’s situation hadn’t much improved. Tonight Dean had brought his laptop to help file some things for Sam and his never-ending pile of things to get him ready for college. Castiel was supposed to be working on his menu still, along with a few more boring aspects of the business Gabriel hadn’t had time before. He sat, back leaning against Dean’s side as he stared down at his paperwork, frown against his lips. He couldn’t focus in the least. The annoying tingle within wasn’t abating like it usually would. Castiel was sure if he just got up and relocated away from Dean he would be able to focus until it subsided, but he was wont to budge even an inch. He could feel the heat of Dean’s arm line up his spine, pleasant and reassuring.

“Stuck?” Dean’s voice sounded just behind his left ear as he peered over to see only a few notes upon Castiel’s page. Castiel shivered, gooseflesh rising on his arms as he resolutely pressed his pen to paper with a soft affirmative hum. “I’m sure you’ll get it, you come up with the best stuff.” Dean gave him a slight jostle with a chuckle in his voice before he went back to his typing.

Ten minutes later he had made very little progress, and Dean was taking notice. “You okay Cas? You’re usually going like gang-busters.” Castiel usually murmured, sighed, and huffed throughout the entire process, something Dean found ridiculously adorable.

“Fine,” Castiel responded a little too quickly, blushing creeping up his neck as Dean leaned closer.

“You sure?” Dean was afraid that awkward chasm was opening up again even after the past few days had seen them blending together like before.

A slightly strained sigh escaped the disgruntled looking man.”No..It’s embarrassing.” He replied miserably, afraid that Dean might think him ridiculous for getting worked up the way he was.

“Embarrassing?” His brow rose, “What’s wrong?”

Castiel’s back bowed slightly as he brought his legs a little tighter to his chest, legal pad sliding from his knees. “It’s just that..since I..saw you that time I’ve..been thinking about it frequently. I’m not used to that.” He admitted, face nearly as bright as the tomatoes Dean had used to make the sauce for dinner. “I mean- I get..like that sometimes, obviously..but not _towards_ you, until now.” He was a little nervous at the implications but decided that Dean more than likely wouldn’t throw it in his face after so long.

The little hope within Dean’s chest nearly exploded.” O-oh yeah?” He replied lamely, feeling every inch a teenager once again. Being smooth and charming had never been difficult before, but then again, he’d never carried a torch for someone this bright.“Hey..that’s okay though, isn’t it?” He ventured, trying not to sound too hopeful less this turn out to be something Castiel was self-conscious over.

“Is it?” Castiel responded back, head turning just slightly to glance at his friend from the corner of his eye.

Dean puffed out an aborted chuckle, “Hell yes. Does that mean that maybe you..?” He was treading into unexplored waters here.

Slowly rotating his backside on the couch, Castiel moved to sit with his legs forward.” I..think so. I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve been spending together and I..wouldn’t be averse to doing more things like we did before.”

God help him he knew he should be more focused on celebrating the fact that Castiel looked open to an _official_ relationship with him, but what he said had gone straight below. “Then why don’t I..help out there?” Dean ventured, hoping he wasn’t pressing too fast after Castiel trusted him with his admission.

Castiel hesitated, and Dean’s worry that he had gone too far gnawed at his stomach like a rabid animal. “..How?” Came the slightly older man’s reply, angling his head to glance back at Dean once more, cheeks still bright.

Stifling a shuddering sigh of relief, Dean placed his laptop on the coffee table, all thoughts of paperwork abandoned. He was sure Sammy would understand.”Come’ere.” He held out his arm as Castiel slowly rotated forward and placed his notebook next to Dean’s laptop. “We can start slow. Kind of jumped the gun before, not that I’m complaining.” He grinned, broad with a touch of self-consciousness that made Castiel’s stomach flip-flop as he slotted to the other’s side.

Castiel did well not to bristle as he felt Dean’s hand rise up, fingers ghosting along the skin of his neck, dancing along his Adam's apple and skirting back against this jugular until he could loosely cup the back of Castiel’s neck. “Can I kiss you?” He nodded dumbly, too focused on the sensation of heat against his skin to vocalize. Before he knew it, Dean had tipped his head up slightly with his free hand, and their lips were meeting.

The kiss was slow and tentative as the experienced man guided the near virginal through the kiss. At first, Castiel was at a loss, as he could count the number of people he had kissed on one hand alone. Slowly, he found the rhythm, mirroring the movements of Dean’s lips and the tilt of his head until they aligned properly. Just when he felt as if he was getting the hang of it, Dean’s lips parted gently, his slick tongue swiping against Castiel’s, begging for entry. Castiel nearly jolted, surprised by the deepening of the kiss. His hands had come up to tangle in the fabric of Dean’s shirt, providing a grounding force as he shyly let his lips barely drift apart.

It was all he could do to keep his wits about him from then on. Dean’s tongue was sliding against his own, guiding him into a deeper kiss the likes of which he’d never experienced. Dean shifted them on the couch, pressing Castiel back and cupping his partner’s jaw to tilt his head into the kiss as it deepened. Castiel could feel himself near shivering in Dean’s hold, overwhelmed by just how _good_ something he had always regarded as disgusting felt. The concept of ‘French kissing’ had always sounded revolting to him growing up. Like most sexual acts, it just sounded terribly unhygienic, yet even now when he could taste the rich, near mossy notes of the red wine they had drunk with dinner on Dean’s tongue, he was enthralled.

It could have been minutes or decades for all he knew when Dean broke the kiss to let Castiel catch his breath, emerald-green eyes blown to saucers as he searched his partner’s face for any sign of discomfort or distress. Instead, he was met with a look as hungry as his own, even though it lacked focus or dimension. Castiel sucked in a soft gasp, lips slick and swollen from the kiss Dean had meant to keep gentle and tame. It had been too difficult not to press further when Castiel proved to be a quick study, his awkward movements easing into something surer as minutes ticked by.

  
“Damn Cas..” He breathed with a shaky laugh, bending to place a tender kiss at the corner of the other Castiel’s lips.” Was that..okay”?  
  
The distracting ache below had begun screaming at him as they kissed, “Yes. Very okay.” Castiel rumbled, cheeks darkening at how eager that had come out. “I would very much like to do that again. Now.” He saw the flicker of hunger darken Dean’s eyes, and it nearly sent a shiver down his spine.

Their lips met in a flash, and Dean moved to wrap his arms around Castiel and tug him forward until he got the hint to move and climb onto Dean to straddle his lap. With the new position, Dean could settle a hand on Castiel’s hip, ruffling the fabric of his shirt as his left hand braced against the Castiel’s jaw as their lips slid hungrily against one another. A soft groan bubbled from the Castiel’s throat as Dean drew back a bit to nibble at his lower lip.

“Dean..” Castiel’s voice was thready and pinched as he continued to trail kisses along his jaw and neck. He could see the strain of Castiel’s  predicament as he glanced below, inches away from the rising swell in his own jeans. “Can we?...like last time?”

The thought of stroking Castiel off together made his own discomfort rise fast enough to make him suck in a steadying breath. “Yeah? Let me, baby, you did so good last time.” The pet name slipped past his lips before he could stop himself, always the affectionate type in bed, much to his embarrassment. Castiel didn’t at all seem to mind as he watched Dean’s hands slid under his shirt and to the button of his pants. Dean’s hand dipped inside, rubbing against the swell in Castiel’s boxers and eliciting a loud groan from the man above him.

A moment later Dean freed Castiel’s straining length from its confines with a low hum of appreciation. Unlike his own, a soft patch of dark hair was nestled at the base, groomed and clipped. His fingers wrapped around Castiel as he quaked above him, small sounds bit back behind his reddened lips. “It’s okay..be as loud as you want.” He crooned, pumping slowly along the length that jutted out from Castiel’s body in an inviting hang.  


Even with Dean’s encouragement, Castiel found it hard not to stifle the soft whimpers that betrayed him. He’d never considered himself an overly vocal person, but now he was having trouble keeping the noise within. Dean’s warm, slightly calloused hand wrapped around a place no one else had touched directly beside himself felt impossibly good. His hips rocked slightly in Dean’s hold until he focused long until to lean forward and wrap his arms loosely around Dean’s shoulders.

“Y..you too. Do it too.” Castiel requested, departing one arm from Dean’s shoulder so he could brush his shirt away from his belt. Dean shifted, using his unoccupied hand to unzip his jeans as Castiel’s hand dove into his boxers.

As soon as he was freed, he moved to tug Castiel down further on his lap, until their chests and lengths met between them. “Tell me..if it gets to be too much.” Dean murmured softly into the flesh of Castiel’s neck, sucking a gentle hickey as his hand drifted back between them, capturing both of their cocks in his fingers with a shuddered sigh. Castiel’s joined him moments after, closing around the other side with another near-pained groan.

Castiel nodded quickly, panting as Dean’s hand began to move, setting the pace for his own. After a few strokes, Dean withdrew, Castiel’s brows knitting questioningly and his eyes focus on what he was doing. “O-oh.” He gulped, watching Dean lick the palm of his hand with a wink that sent a jolt down below. A heartbeat later Dean took Castiel’s hand and did the same, licking his palm and fingers with wicked passes of his pink tongue. Castiel’s cock twitched as he watched with rapt attention until Dean was satisfied, and guided their hands back to their waiting lengths.

The new slickness nearly ruined Castiel he bent to bury his head in the crook of Dean’s shoulder, the smell of his cologne filling him. “Dean!” Castiel panted, their combined grip sliding up and down their pressed cocks. He was steadily leaking at this point, unused to the sensation of another's heat against him.

“Does it feel good Cas?” Dean’s deep voice reverberated through him, his lips pressing into the dishelved mess of Castiel’s hair.

“A..ahh, Yes! It feels-” Castiel’s hips moved on their own, shifting in and out in their combined hold, sliding against Dean’s cock, tip dragging up and down the strong pulsing vein at the underside of Dean’s shaft.

Dean cursed wondrously into Castiel’s hair, grunting low as the man above him ground them together with more fervor than he had expected out of the socially awkward baker. 

Castiel’s grip tightened, his hips working with more determination. He was close to coming, Dean could hear it in the wrecked whines still behind closed lips. “That’s it. Come for me Cas, it’s okay.” He praised, stroking faster as he felt the heat rise within, pulling at his abdomen and sucking the air from his lungs.

Seconds later the Castiel’s lips parted with a groaning gasp, and he spilled hard over their hands and dirtying their shirts between them. His slick dribbled down their hands, coating Dean until the warmth and wetness of their hands had him tipping over the edge as well with Castiel’s name on his lips.  After the last drop was coaxed from their glossed tips, Castiel slumped against Dean below, sucking in quaking breaths.

Basking in the afterglow, Dean trailed the hand not coated in their combined seed to Castiel’s back, rubbing slow and comfortingly.” Fuck baby..you did so good.” And he meant it. Few things in his life had been as erotic as watching Castiel’s face in the minutes before he had hidden, too embarrassed to let Dean see a side of himself no other had before.

As embarrassing as it was, it felt _good_ to have Dean coo over him the way he was. Castiel didn’t feel as if Dean was being patronizing or belittling him for his inexperience, if anything, he was all the more endeared by it. Even with the cooling come on his fingers wasn’t enough to drag himself from Dean’s lap just yet, content to cuddle close and have Dean press fawning kisses into his hairline and temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more updates and excerpts head to my tumblr at : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes


	13. Lemon Icebox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything can't all be sugar and sweets for the boys. When John overhears his sons conversing over breakfast, things get heated fast, and Sam runs to the two the Winchesters had begun to trust the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! I'm really trying to get chapters out more frequently, thanks for bearing with me so far! It blows my mind to think about how long ago I started this, sorry for making you guys wait for so long XD
> 
> Thanks again for reading and commenting, I love the feedback!

 Glasses clinked and plates clanked one morning in the Winchester house as the breakfast table groaned under one of Dean’s cooking sprees. Sam eased into the sunny kitchen, brows quirked and hair disheveled. “Is it Christmas”? He ventured with a teasing chuckle. Dean had to be in one damn good mood to get up early and putter around the kitchen. Over the years, Sam had learned that night cooking equals bad, and morning cooking to ACDC meant something very very good was buzzing around his big brother’s mind.

Peering over his shoulder, Dean flashed a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "You better be hungry." He smirked as he plunked down a mountain of pancakes on the table, next to the bacon, eggs, and toast. As if they needed another carb other than pancakes.

Practically drooling already, the hungry teenager scraped the antique chair across the floor and scooted to the table. "Seriously though, what gives? Am I dying?"

 Dean snorted as they fixed their plates. "Why does something have to happen for me to cook breakfast? Can’t a man want pancakes without getting the third degree?" Dean volleyed playfully as he tipped a bottle of syrup over his piled plate until his griddle cakes were swimming.

Crinkling his nose in disgust, Sam went a more modest route with his breakfast and portioned out his syrup to the side of his plate for dipping. "Uh-huh... It’s just that you have a hickey the size of Texas on your neck and I know you came home from Castiel’s late.” He snickered as Dean slapped a hand to his neck where his T-shirt barely hid the reddened kiss mark Castiel had made into the crook of his neck. For someone that had limited experience in sex, Castiel had taken to necking like a pro. In the short two weeks, Dean and Castiel had taken their relationship to the next level, they had fallen into each other’s arms like mad men. They hadn’t stepped any farther than make out sessions or mutual stroking, but Dean wasn’t complaining. He could go at Castiel’s pace, thrilled to even be as close as it was.

Grinning despite being caught red-handed, Dean shrugged helplessly. “Well. We’re kind of thing now.” He admitted, gruff and awkward talking about his budding relationship with his baby brother.

“ _Dean_! That’s awesome!” Sam looked more excited than Dean was. All Sam wanted for Dean was to find some happiness, and he hadn’t seen his brother this giddy in years. Dean already talked about Castiel near constantly, and even though it could wear on his nerves, Sam was just glad he had someone that was pumping the brakes reasonably before Dean could fall too hard too fast. It had been good that he had been forced to go slow, even Sam knew that. It had given the men ample time to get to know each other. Dean’s biggest Achilles heel was going hard and parting just as hard.

“Seriously, I’m happy for you. You’re good for each other and Bobby approves; he talks about that cobbler Cas made for him like a wet dream.” The brothers dissolved into laughter, chatting about the week’s occurrences, though a much more edited version as Dean wasn’t about to tell just how much he had enjoyed mapping out Castiel’s shoulders with his lips.

It was somewhere in the middle of Dean joking about the quiet ones and Sam rolling his eyes in disgust when they heard the door to the back porch slam open hard enough to startle them in their seats. Dean’s stomach plummeted, eyes flicking over to the window he had opened to get the warm air from the stove out of the kitchen.

“Am I hearing this right?” John Winchester was an imposing man when he wanted to be, all scruff and work boots. He was a man that other men saw and knew who the alpha dog was, someone not to be trifled with easily. Once upon a time, he’d had a smile that could charm hearts to breaking and a laugh not far behind, but neither of his sons had witnessed either in years. Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his father truly happy. “Dean, are you screwing around with men again?” His heavy brows pulled over his near-pitch eyes. He smelled like he’d either finished a hard night drinking or had started early.

“Dean..” Sam started, lips clamping as his older brother fixed him with a warning stare.

“Sammy, go on to the library or something,” Dean ordered lowly, standing up from the breakfast table, abandoning his half-finished breakfast. “What’s it matter to you, dad? You’re not around enough to see it.”

 Sam wasn’t sure why Dean rose to that question, usually, he could deflect or ignore until John grew exasperated and parted with some sort of scathing remark that would have Dean brooding for days.   
  
Another hard look from Dean’s bright-greens had Sam headed for the hills, snatching his bag from the living room and booking it out the door, leaving the sound of steadily rising voices in his wake. He hated leaving the house, leaving Dean to their father when he got in one of his moods. Whenever it was one on one, no matter which son it was, things always got out of hand, but it always got under Dean’s skin more. Unlike him, Dean could remember the man their father _used_ to be, versus the one he was now.

Distantly, Sam had memories of John being at least a decent father. In his early years, he’d gone through the motions, present, but absent in all the ways that counted. He’d taken them fishing a handful of times, other outings less, but there had been some good memories in there. Enough for his eventually downward spiral to cut instead of sting.

He only prayed Dean got out of there fast if John was beyond reasoning with. There were certain topics one just didn’t discuss with the man. Their deceased mother, Bobby and Ellen after their falling out, and Dean liking the company of men as much as he did women. Sam could still remember the day when he’d first found Dean stealing kisses with a boy on the baseball team. He’d pulled him from little-league the day after, and the bruises from the belt on the back of the then fourteen-year old’s thighs had taken weeks to fade.  


* * *

 

“If you don’t stop eating those, I’m going to tell your doctor.” Castiel groused as he plucked Gabriel’s third _pain au chocolate_ from his hand.

Scowling, Gabriel reached for his stolen breakfast, only for the taller to keep it high above his head with an effortless stretch of his ridiculously long arms. "Cas! That’s not fair! I’ll climb you, I swear to god. My blood sugar wasn’t _that_ high, gimme my breakfast!” Keening at the loss of his breakfast, Gabriel was forced to watch as Castiel carried the rest of his snack and dumped it unceremoniously into the garbage. “Rude Cas, rude.”

“You’ll live,” Castiel snipped, the little grin that pulled at his lips not escaping the notice of his older brother as the patissier meandered back into the kitchen. Even if he still griped like an old man, Castiel had been smiling a lot more lately. In fact, he was what Gabriel considered to be Castiel’s version of cheerful. It had been years since he’d seen Castiel look like he wasn't constantly sucking on lemons. It reminded him of that sweet, innocent kid he’d thought he’d lost to the ravages of high school and young adult life. The kid that had talked about getting an ant farm for the window sill, and snuck out with Lucifer to get a tattoo that he was sure no one outside of the family had ever seen.

The door chimed, interrupting the quip forming on his sugar-coated lips.  “Damn Gumbi, in a hurry?” He turned to see Sam charging up to the counter, forehead damp with sweat and looking like he’d run a marathon. To Gabriel, most physical exertion looked like more effort than it was.

“Where’s Castiel?” Sam grimaced at the hitch in his side from running on a full stomach as he rounded the counter. The Winchesters had been given ‘behind the scenes’ privileges weeks ago, one that Dean had been abusing every chance he got by tasting a nibble of this, and a spoonful of that.

“Sam? What’s wrong?” The patissier in question peered from the back, mixing bowl held against his hip and whisk paused in the beginnings of pale eggy froth.

Sucking in a steadying breath, Sam’s eyes shifted between the older men, debating on telling them the half-truths they always told people when John got into the mix. Gabe and Cas had fast become fixtures in the Winchester brothers' day to day, it felt wrong to lie to them now. “Dad came home. He heard me and Dean talking about Cas and they got into it. Dean made me leave.” Guilt wrote itself clear enough on the young man’s face that Gabriel was already moving to make him something to drink, ever aware of Castiel’s critical eye. He didn’t think hugging the kid a little than ten years his junior would go over very well in front of his brother, all things considered.

“Maybe I should call him.” Castiel retreated into the back to set down his bowl, collapsing froth be damned. Chewing on his inner lip, he reached into his pocket to speed-dial Dean, a function the more tech-savvy had shown him after watching him meticulously search through his phone for his contacts list.

The phone rang and rang before finally going to voicemail.

The coffee in Castiel’s stomach turned acidic and sour. “He’s not picking up.” He turned back to the waiting pair, frown heavy on his lips.

“They’re probably still yelling at each other,” Sam mumbled, leaning against the doorframe with an air of defeat. “Of all the days he could have turned up and he decided to then.” It felt par for the course in their lives, where Murphy ’s Law was alive and well. “He’ll call once he checks his phone, don’t worry.” It felt ridiculous for the teenage to be comforting him, but Castiel was thankful regardless.

Minutes crept by and Castiel forced himself back into the kitchen as Gabriel kept Sam entertained in the café. His mind strained for memories of Dean talking about his father, trying to work out just how worried he should be. A conversation from a few weeks past floated to the surface, as Dean had meandered around his condo one night before dinner.

* * *

 

_“This all the Novaks?” Dean held up a framed group shot that rested on one of the bookshelves. It was a rare occurrence for all of them to be together in one place, but their mother had managed to rope them all together one Christmas when he had been thirteen. Castiel's brothers and sister all squished into the frame with his parents beaming in the middle as if they weren’t aware of the simmering scowls two of the brothers had been giving each other all morning._

_Castiel walked over, humming a soft affirmative.” Michael and Lucifer never got along.” He explained, pointing to the two older teens on the verge of snapping in the photo._

_“Your parents sure knew how to name ‘em you know that?” Dean teased good-naturedly as he studied the picture. Castiel sat next to a chubby-faced Gabriel, who had definitely grown into being the overly-confident ass instead of the pudgy brat that had tugged his little brother into a tight arm-hold, much to Castiel’s obvious distaste. They sat next to a bright-haired girl with a strained smile, doing her best to ignore the majority of her brothers and their shenanigans. Another brother sat near their father, beaming a shit-eating grin and holding bunny ears over his oblivious sister’s head. The remaining older brother stood ramrod straight next to their mother, doggedly ignoring the rest of his kin in favor of looking towards the camera, no hint of a smile on his lips._

_Castiel gently rolled his eyes as he pressed his finger over the other children in the photo.” Believe me, I know. That, of course, is Gabriel. That’s Anna, Balthazar, and Raphael on the corner. My parents there, Chuck and Rebecca.”_

_Smirking at the fact that the parents had plain-jane names while their kids were rocking biblical, Dean’s eyes drifted back to the sleepy-eyed teen nestled in his brother’s arm. Castiel was in a sweater two sizes too big for him, no doubt a hand-me-down from one of his siblings, arms looped around a stack of books he had set in his lap from the family’s Christmas morning._

_“I used to take pictures of Sammy and me every morning before we tore into everything. It drove him nuts.” Dean chuckled as he set the picture back on the shelf._

_“Your dad didn’t take it?” The question left his lips before he could reign it back in._

_Dean stilled, eyes still on the picture and all the personalities within. "Nah. He did the first couple years. Stopped getting up early when Sam was five or six. For a few years, we flew solo. Went to Bobby’s after that.” He shrugged, making it sound like no big thing, but Castiel had been struck by the tension that had seeped into his eyes. He couldn’t imagine either of his parents skipping any holiday, let alone Christmas. Sure, his parents had their problems, his father could fall in and out of emotionally distant to overly-doting at the drop of a hat. His mother needed to have something to divert her attentions less she smother them under the weight of her interest. They turned a blind eye to family friction and handled rebellion badly, but they had their good points, for what ever tension there existed between them all. They’d never been so cold as to abandon their kids on a morning that had meant the most._

_Castiel licked his lips, the air brittle with things unsaid. "Did he do that a lot?” It felt a step too far, but he was desperate to know more bits and pieces about Dean._

_Dean’s jaw worked, muscle stretching taught. He was silent so long Castiel feared he’d gone too far. “Sometimes. He was alright for a few years but... I dunno, checked out or something. We learned to get on without him.” The conversation closed off with that as the man forced to grow up too hard, too fast, turned to walk to the kitchen to get the money for the pizza._

* * *

 

An hour later the door chimed, and Sam jumped up from his books, too nervous to do anything more than stare at the words. “Dean!”  
  
“Hey Sammy, how’d I know you’d be here instead of the library?” He smirked, watching as the teen rushed him, only to pause a few steps away. "Yeah, I know...” Dean grumbled, touching the growing bruise on his cheek. “Looks worse than it is.”  
  
Sam sighed, having heard that more times that he would have cared to admit. The lashing-out had started in the past couple years, once Dean was old enough to crowd their father’s space right back. Now that he was growing, Sam had begun to see his own interactions with his father when he was angry shift as well. It wouldn’t be long until they came to blows as well.  
  
“Geez, got a shiner there, don’t you? Well, least you were ugly, to begin with.” Gabriel slid around the counter, his lips pulling into a teasing grin even when his insides had curdled. The hell kind of man popped their own kid? At least he’d pulled a small smile out of Sam, though Dean’s frown had crinkled at the edges. Ah well, some people’s sense of humor left much to be desired.  
  
Doggedly ignoring the pint-size terror, Dean’s gaze turned back towards the kitchen as Castiel appeared at the doorway. “Dean... What happened?” The look on his newly-minted boyfriend’s face tugged at the older Winchester’s heart. He’d never had anyone other than Sam and their family friends look so concerned about him. “Come here.” Castiel motioned him to the door as he turned to retreat into the kitchen, returning a moment later with some ice wrapped in a cloth to press against Dean’s cheek.  
  
“I don’t know. Something must have gotten him pissed off more than usual today. Came in steeped and Phil Robertsoned all over the place. He said one thing too much and I told him to shut his damn mouth and he hauled off and punched me.” Dean scowled. ‘Disrespecting’ him, he said. As if he would sit there and take hearing his father go off on a tirade about a man he’d never met, and one that meant a great deal to Dean now.  
  
 Dean adjusted the ice pack, “You know what really pisses me off? He _kicked me out_! As if I don’t pay all the damn bills!” Fuming as he was, he was just glad things hadn’t gotten any more out of hand than they did. John had surprised him with the punch, but after a brief struggle, they had been able to part without any more blows.  
  
“What?!” Came the indignant squawk of the outraged teen behind him, “How can he do that? Without you, he would've lost the house!” Sam had half a mind to march back to the home just to challenge their father. He had _no_ right to try and kick his brother out, not after Dean had picked up after him since he was a teenager himself. “Where are you going then?”  
  
Briefly removing the pack before his face froze, Dean shrugged. “I’ll just crash at Bobby’s until this blows- ““You can stay with me.” At first, Dean wasn’t sure he’d heard Castiel correctly. Judging by the simultaneous wide-eyes of the two next to him, he had heard him all right. “Come again?”  
  
Castiel blushed under all the eyes on him, “I said that you can stay with me. If you want.” They already spent a large part of their nights together already, and he’d grown used to having Dean around, it seemed only right to offer. “I don’t think it will make your Father any less angry, but still, you’re welcome to.”

Well, hot damn. Who would have thought the pile of crap the day had been shaping up to be would turn into something so inviting? “You sure?” Dean echoed dumbly, still shocked at the offer. The slight huff told him if he asked again, Castiel might leave him standing there to stew in his questions. "Yeah, that’d be great.” _More_ than great. He’d never actually stayed the night with anyone he’d gone out with outside of after-sex sleepovers. His nights had always revolved around taking care of Sammy or those brief nights away.  
  
Just when Castiel and Dean looked like they were about to get too cozy and share a little pecking PDA, Gabriel cleared his throat. "Hey, pump the breaks here. Are you really going to let Bambi stay there after that?” His whiskey eyes had leveled on Sam, worry brewing within. Try as he might, he’d already resigned himself to the fact that he was invested in the kid. Maybe it was the puppy-dog looks, or just the fact that deep down Gabriel was a big ol' softy, but he couldn’t rest easy knowing Sam was in the house with a homophobic drunk.  
  
 The bright glimmers of something new were fast dying out of the couple’s eyes, and Sam jumped to revive them. "I’ll be fine! Dad doesn’t even know. He’s barely around anyway and when he is, we don’t talk. It’ll be like having the house to myself.” He put on a bright, devilish grin. "Seventeen-year old’s dream. No one to nag.” He ducked under Dean’s playful swipe, but he could still see the hesitation in his brother’s face. "Dean, seriously, I’ll be fine. I’m barely at the house anyway. In a few months, I’ll be off to college. Don’t worry about me and go play house.” It was rare he could embarrass Dean, and he’d savor the heat that bloomed over his brother’s face. He leveled a look at Gabriel, daring him to keep on.  
  
Gabriel pouted, obviously displeased with the idea still, but he’d give the kid the benefit of a doubt. Sam was a smart enough kid to know not to put himself in danger’s way… right?  
  
The other two slowly eased down from their own concern, “If you think so.” Castiel hummed in quiet reflection, not at all pleased with the idea of Sam being in the house either, but the teen’s mind looked to be set.  
  
“Anything happens and you get out of there okay?” Dean turned, brows furrowing. “On the off chance he does wander in, just don’t engage him and come to me okay? He ain’t worth it.” It pained him to say it, but the man he’d grown up with just wasn’t there anymore. John had made that abundantly clear the first time he’d cold-cocked him after arguing about Sam going off the college.

The teen groaned, rolling his eyes under the three sets of adults that had their faces pinched. "Guys, I’m not stupid, I know the drill. I’ll. Be. Fine!” He insisted once more, ignoring the flutter of unease within his belly. Truth be told, he was afraid of being alone in the house knowing his dad could pop up out of nowhere. He was used to the occasional night alone, but he’d never consistently had to be by himself before. He felt silly fretting so much when he was almost of legal age, but it had just been him and his brother for so long sometimes he forgot how to exist outside of Dean’s orbit. In the end, Sam decided it would be good for him. He was going to leave for college before too long and he would have to get used to not having his brother there with him there, so this could be a trial run.

Dean was finally placated enough to let some of the tension filter out of his shoulders. "Well, if you think so.” He murmured, backing down in light of Sam’s confidence. Even if he made the occasional stupid decision, Dean had learned he could generally trust his brother’s judgment. Outside of a few fights when he was younger, Sam had never given him the mountain of headaches other teenagers inflicted on their parents. Hell, Dean knew the type of things he had gotten into, and still did occasionally. Sam had a level head on his shoulders, most of the time, so he’d give him this.  “Just don’t sit around and eat jars of peanut butter okay?” A smirk curled his lips, knowing Sam’s kryptonite.  
  
Now it was the teenager’s turn to be embarrassed. ” _Dean_ , I was twelve!” He fumed under his brother’s snickering. Dean had stayed over at a girl’s house, one of the first times he’d ever stayed out all night. Being twelve, Sam had decided it would be the perfect opportunity to have the run of the house. After stealing through his brother’s internet history, it had been far easier to grab a jar of peanut butter and forgo bread when his stomach's grumbling overrode more primal curiosities. It was humiliating remembering how he’d scrolled through websites with a spoon hanging from his mouth, enraptured by all the things his elder brother was up to when their Dad wasn’t looking. Dean had teased him for years after that, mercilessly calling him ‘PB and ky jelly’ after finding peanut butter fingerprints all over his keyboard.

With the mood lightened Dean could return his attentions back to Castiel, a soft smile hovering over his lips, broadening under the shy grin he received in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side notes:  
> Why is Balthy included? BECAUSE I LOVE HIM! (He needs more love<3)  
> Also as you might have noticed, I'm team 'I-really-can't-stand-John'. I know some people love him, I'm just not one of those guys XD He'll probably be a royal D-bag in everything I ever write for SPN. After reading the books and the comics, he just makes me mad.
> 
> For more updates and excerpts head to my tumblr at : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/


	14. Peaches and Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel are settling into a more domestic relationship, getting used to residing with another, and the intimacy it brings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh this chapter took forever to write because the first draft I hated and scrapped it, haha. BUT I already have half the next chapter written so, good news there haha.  
> I know the comments will no doubt sing complaints but yes, Bottom!Cas is a feature in this fic, why? Because it fit the narrative, I've decided I'll be adding side one-shots to this later, so you'll get your Top!Cas so don't bring out the pitch forks just yet ;)
> 
> This is a completely Cas/Dean chapter so enjoy ~ 
> 
> Once again thank you thank you for all that comment here and on Tumblr. I never thought the little fic I'd fleshed out like seven chapters for would end up twice as long as expected but you guys really inspired me.

If someone would have told him a year ago he would be willingly sharing his living space with a boyfriend, Castiel would have considered them insane to the point of no return. It had been two weeks since Dean had come to stay with him, and neither man was in a rush to see if John had calmed down enough to allow Dean back into his own home. It was surprisingly easy to coexist with someone Castiel had once dubbed filthy. Outside of his work, Dean rarely made a mess aside from the errant beer bottle or leaving his shoes at random points within the apartment. If anything, he was more diligent about the laundry and regular chores than Castiel.

“I wasn’t going to let Sammy grow up in a gross house, Cas,” Dean commented with an amused smirk as he plopped himself down on the couch to begin on their combined laundry. Dean had insisted even when Castiel protested, adding that it was just as easy to throw his laundry in at the same time. “It’s kind of relaxing really.” He shrugged, glancing at the television where a re-run of Dr. Sexy was playing. Finding out the gruff, flannel-wearing, beer-drinker enjoyed watching daytime melodramas had been something Dean made him swear never to tell Gabriel.  


“As long as you don’t think you’ve got to…” Castiel wouldn’t deny him it if it really was calming to him, god above knows he doesn’t enjoy doing domestic chores himself. He had long learned that ‘wrinkle-resistant’ was paramount in his clothing choice. His job was already exhausting enough without having to worry about dragging himself out of bed to iron his pants and shirts before work.

A tight knot had formed between his shoulders from a long day of filling a large wedding order, and no amount of shifting was alleviating the angry pull. Even the frankly ridiculous plot line of the television show did nothing to draw his attention away from the persistent ache.

“You okay over there? You act like you’re trying to give the couch a lap dance.” Dean’s show had ended, and his eyes had settled back on his boyfriend, who looked even more pinched than usual.

“Mm, just a backache. I’ve never piped more flowers in my life. If I have to see another one this week I might plunge a piping tip in my eye.” Castiel grumbled as he sat forward, abandoning his hope of getting comfortable once and for all.

Dean gestured him close, setting aside the little bit of clothing left to fold on the coffee table. “Come’ere. Let’s see if I can get it. Seriously, dude, I don’t know how you can bend over that table all day.” At least he had a bit of variety in the uncomfortable positions he was forced into, over and under cars.

Get it? What did- Oh, Dean was going to rub his shoulders for him. It sent a warm curl dancing up his spine for reasons Castiel tried to silence as he slid closer on the couch.

In the weeks, they had been officially a couple, Castiel had taken to mapping out Dean’s body with his fingers and lips with gusto. His mouth’s curiosity had been constrained to above-the-belt for now, too nervous to let himself explore deeper for fear that he would do something poorly. With every day that went by, Castiel found the itch that had worked its way under his skin grow, only alleviated whenever he and Dean touched.

Dean shifted one leg up on the couch as he reached out to angle Castiel’s back to him, forcing him to mirror his own position. “Lose the jacket.” He had already begun to gently pull the blue knit from Castiel’s shoulders with the prompt. “Damn, you are tense. Well, more tense than usual. Anyone ever tell you that your posture is downright Vulcan?” Once the reference might have gone over his head, but Dean had insisted they begin his ‘education’ properly a few days into their cohabitation. It hadn’t taken them long to eat through the first box-set of Star Trek.

“Yes Dean, you did— Ahh—” His back arched, a hard twitch shooting through him as Dean’s thumbs dug into the knot with a pressure verging on blissfully painful. Castiel cast a weak glare at Dean’s soft chuckling. He was all too content to relax into his boyfriend’s hold afterward and let him work the muscles into cooperation. Minutes ticked by, and he eased a little more into Dean’s hands, finally pliant and content to shrug off a bit of the tight coil that always kept him on edge.

His eyes drifted, basking in the sensation of warm, rough hands playing along his back. At some point, Dean’s hands had slipped up the fabric of his remaining shirt, the heat of his touch increasing until Castiel felt practically gelatinous.

A noise disrupted his relaxation, insistent and amused. At first, he thought another television show must have started up, but as his eyes fluttered open he startled to see Dean’s face hovering over his own. His body was horizontal on the couch, head nestled in the groove of the other’s folded leg.

“Welcome back, you conked out for a good thirty minutes but my leg is going to sleep.” Dean chuckled above him, smoothing his fingers through Castiel’s unruly dark hair. "If you’re that tired, why not turn in early? I have a day off tomorrow so I’ll finish up the laundry then.”

Castiel groaned low, unwilling to leave the comfortable dip of Dean’s muscular calf and thigh. “Cut it off, I’m not moving.” This earned him another round of laughter, a sound that never ceased making his chest warm. He grumbled, rolling onto his side and pressing his face into Dean’s pant leg with a resolute huff that broke off into an indignant squawk the moment he felt Dean reach over his body to tickled over the swath of exposed skin from where his shirt had ridden up on his side.

In the end, he was forced to sit up to escape Dean’s torturous fingers, expressive eyes beaming full-force at his lover for his betrayal. The fond eye roll he received in return hadn’t been the expression he was going for, and his pout deepened.

“Cut the beams Snoopy, I grew up with Sam remember? I’m immune to puppy-eyes.” Which was a bold lie and he knew it, because Dean instantly reached out to gather the sad puppy in question in his arms, and place a tender kiss to his temple. “If you think I’m so comfortable, I’m just down the hall.” Dean’s voice hummed against his skull, a pleasant rumbled that rippled down his spine. A heartbeat later, “I could always bunk with you if you’re that needy.”

Castiel stilled, eyes widening a bit as Dean eased back from the embrace. Now it was Dean’s turn to be caught off guard by the expression that wrote itself across his lover’s face. Ears pinking, he added, "I meant just to sleep, Cas; don’t look at me like I’m going to eat you.” His smile turned sheepish, “I mean I wouldn’t mind eating you in certain- Scratch that, wrong train of thought. Seriously though, just sleeping.” He cleared his throat, flustered that he’d let his mouth run away with him again. It was a habit Castiel had noticed the first time Dean had asked if he could kiss lower than Castiel’s neck, and once again when he’d wanted to go further still.

Sleeping next to Dean, it was something Castiel hadn’t done in their brief cohabitation aside from dozing off on his shoulder, or now his lap. Having Dean’s heat and body so close to his… The thought alone made that tendril of heat shift from his chest down below but, thankfully, it was only a little voice. The exhaustion of the day and his desire to ease himself into the more intimate nature of their dating made the idea of cuddling against Dean more innocent than erotic.

Bobbing his head was all it took to light up Dean’s face. Had he known that’s all it took to get such an expression out of him, Castiel would have agreed to sharing a bed a week ago. He found he hoarded every action that elicited joy out of the Winchester in a mental vault to ferret away and use whenever possible. As much as he loved the peal of Dean’s laughter, it was the open smiles that made his cheeks dimple and small smile-lines creasing near his eyes that made Castiel’s stomach flip.

It didn’t take long for them to hurry through their night routine of teeth brushing and changing into their nightclothes. Castiel felt a flickering anxiety within as he eased into his sheets as Dean retrieved a glass of water from the kitchen to offer him a pain-killer for the rest of his backache. He hadn’t slept next to anyone in years. What if he had some sort of irritating night-habit? Did he kick in his sleep? Did he snore? What if he ended up hogging all the blankets and Dean never wanted to sleep next to him again?

“You get up at the ass-crack of dawn, right?” Dean’s inquiry drug him back to the present, watching as the other set the alarm clock for him, even though Dean had just told him he had the day off tomorrow.

“I’m going to wake you up though.” Castiel frowned, not wanting to deprive Dean of a much-needed rest. His breath stalled as Dean leaned over to place a feather-soft kiss on his lips, the shared taste of toothpaste between them.

The alarm clock was placed back on the nightstand, and Dean moved to shed his white t-shirt a moment later, deciding the thick blanket Castiel slept under was more than enough covering. Truthfully, he tended to sleep in just his boxers, but from the looks, Castiel kept giving him, he figured they wouldn’t end up getting any sleep at all if he went that route. Not that he was complaining. “I’ll be fine, I can go right back to sleep. Promise.”

The stretch of skin bared to him made whatever reassurances Dean offered him pure background noise. The muscles of Dean’s chest still bore little marks from last night’s heavy petting session. His hands had trailed the planes of that chest and back, dipping into every grove of muscle and swell of skin. The memory of pressing his fingers into Dean’s abdomen, only to have him squirm made a small smile curl his lips. Dean had been talking about taking advantage of the building’s gym a few nights ago as he rubbed the same area of his stomach, nose curled in distaste at the layer of barely-there fat that Castiel swore he was going to taste next if he could bring himself to be that bold. It didn’t matter what area of skin it was, Castiel was growing addicted.

Slowly, he reached out to tug at Dean’s bicep to guide him down into the bed, sliding down the length of his forearm until he could curl his fingers with his. "Goodnight Dean.” It was almost a relief to see the nervous flickers of Dean’s own eyes. Sometimes Castiel feared that going at his pace secretly frustrated his lover, but the little displays of shy smiles and rosy cheeks were enough to tell him that maybe Dean was as okay with it as he told him.

Dean wiggled a little closer, until their knees gently bumped, content to allow Castiel to get used to the bit of constant contact as they slept. "Goodnight Cas.” Another kiss was shared, another bloom of warmth and mint.

 

* * *

 

 

Sleeping next to Cas was something Dean had never dreamed he’d ever be comfortable with. He’d slept next to others before, either Sammy when he was a tyke or his throw-away relationships after a hard night’s screwing, but he’d never just slept because he enjoyed the body next to him. The first morning he’d woken to Castiel adhered onto his side, Dean had nearly startled over the side of the bed. Morning after morning, he’d wake to arms tangled around his, a leg slid between his knees, or a forehead pressed against his shoulder. Castiel just kept on surprising him, and no matter how much his bladder screamed at him from it, he couldn’t help but sit and stare down at the other body next to him on the rare occasions he woke first.

On mornings Castiel woke first (which were most), Dean would stir as he extracted their limbs apart, a low groan of protest rumbling from his sleep-rough throat at the departing warmth. Eventually, he’d be forced to roll over and bury himself in Castiel’s abandoned spot to soak up his body heat before it dissipated and steal a few more hours asleep before his work shift began. How the patissier could drag himself up out of bed before the sun rose day after day amazed the mechanic. It had to be some kind of super power, that and the espresso machine tucked near the refrigerator he heard whirring to life every morning.

The nervous jitters had ebbed from their night routine after a week, and the meticulous pre-bed rituals Castiel kept never ceased to amuse him. For a man that looked like he had a permanent case of bed-head, he sure took forever.

“Mm, what is that? You smell like all those lotions they have in Cracker Barrel.” Dean shifted closer as Castiel sat on the bed, leaning in to sniff at the milky-honey aroma that clung to his hair.

Castiel didn’t even pretend to know what Dean was talking about, but it had long been established that was usually the case. "Conditioner. I usually don’t bother in the hot months because it makes my hair feel heavy.” Which would explain the wild texture.

“I use a two-in-one, I hate trying to keep up with all the bottles.” Dean shrugged off his shirt and folded it. The first time he’d tossed his shirt to the ground to leave for the morning, Castiel’s face had scrunched so hard it almost collapsed in on itself. His lesson learned Dean took to folding it from then on. A beat later, he added, "Aren’t you hot? You keep it pretty toasty in here.” With the cool temperature of Choux Want Some More’s kitchen, it was understandable that Castiel kept his home on the warm side.

The small laugh that rose from Castiel earned a brow-quirk. “What?”

Castiel set down the book he’d just cracked open, bright blues settling on the half-dressed man and doing a poor job of keeping them fixed on eyes-only. "You’re very olfactory-oriented.” He’d noticed that whenever a new scent lingered on his skin, Dean would comment soon after drawing close. Be it cinnamon, lemon zest, and now conditioner, Dean would notice.

A soft blush warmed the Winchester’s cheeks, turning towards his boyfriend a little more in the bed. “Hey, when you smell motor oil and gasoline all day, it’s nice to get some variety.” He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone with that, but it was too embarrassing to admit he just liked the way Castiel smelled. Truthfully, there wasn’t much about him that Dean didn’t notice. It had gone past infatuation to something he couldn’t name, a warm bundle of nerves and joy that nestled itself within his rib cage every time he stared at the peculiar patissier for long.

It didn’t take long for their night chit-chat to taper off, and Dean leaned to nuzzle his face against Castiel’s shoulder, chuckling quietly at the small hum of question that bubbled from Castiel’s chest. “How do you sleep in long-sleeves? You keep the thermostat at like a billion degrees.” He reached, plucking the cotton fabric from Castiel’s side.

For a small panicked moment Dean wondered if he’d struck a nerve or done something he wasn’t aware of. Castiel had stilled, poised to flip to the next page of his novel. He’d seen Castiel shirtless before, so it wasn’t that much of an invasive question.

“Dean, if you want me to take my shirt off, all you have to do is ask.” Dean had to look up to see the small smirking smile he could hear in his voice. A hint of rosy red had deepened the color on Castiel’s cheeks, a tell Dean had learned from keen study. These kinds of looks meant Castiel wanted at least a kiss or some affection... Which luckily lead to all sorts of fun things if they were sitting on something comfortable.

Dean didn’t need another prompt to slip his hands up under the offending fabric and divest Castiel of the layer like it had personally insulted his mother’s memory. “Mmm, much better.” His lips were drawn to the line of Castiel’s clavicle, pressing soft, feathery kisses along his shoulder until he could reach his neck. He didn’t stop until he’d kissed his way to Castiel’s lips, who returned his languid kiss with one more impatient. Castiel had a greedy streak in him Dean had endless fun unearthing.

Kisses bled into tongue sliding against tongue until Dean couldn’t keep his mouth just occupied with Castiel’s lips anymore. In one quick swoop, his head bent to let his mouth fall on Castiel’s smooth chest. A sharp sound of surprise sounded above him as his mouth fell upon a perked, dusky nipple. The first time he’d gotten his mouth on Castiel’s chest, Castiel had nearly tugged out a fistful of hair from how hard his fingers had tangled in Dean’s short crop of dark blond hair. Since then, he’d been a little gentler about it, but it had still become Dean’s go-to in getting Castiel hot and bothered. He didn’t let up sucking while he toyed with the unoccupied bud with soft, teasing twists and flicks of his fingers until Castiel had his name on his lips like a prayer. A quick glance below had a smug smile on his spit-slick lips, seeing the twitching strain of Castiel’s erection tent in sleep pants.

“Lookit you, baby.” He crooned, sliding a hand down the planes of Castiel’s flat stomach and to the swell arching up against his pants. His tongue peeked past his lips, stealing a look at the hungry, dazed look that had come over his lover’s face.” Can we... ditch the pjs?” Dean was nervous asking because so far, they hadn’t really been completely naked in front of each other yet. Well, Castiel hadn’t, Dean liked walking from the bathroom to the bedroom to change clothes to air dry too much for Castiel to not have gotten a decent eyeful by now.

Castiel’s breath hitched as Dean drug his palm against his covered tip, “If it gets you touching me faster, yes.” Dean’s bitten-off chortle at the demand only made him more insistent, “Dean.”

After pressing another kiss to Castiel’s lips, Dean drew back so he could help Castiel shift out of his pants as he leaned back against the downy, white pillows. “You’re getting awfully bossy in bed there Cas. “ One swift tug had the material bunched up around Castiel’s knees. “I like it.” He dove, claiming one of the man’s strong, shapely thighs with his lips as he tugged his pajamas the rest of the way off and tossed them aside; folding rule be damned.

Goddamn, Dean could feel those morning jogs Castiel took at the ass-crack of dawn under his tongue. He’d meant it to just be a brief tease on his skin, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop mapping out every inch of strong muscle under his hands and lips.

His own pj-pants forgotten, he focused on tasting every inch of newly-discovered skin. His mouth fell along the line of corded muscle atop Castiel’s leg, alternating between thighs as his hands slid along the outside, kneading and pressing as he went. His head tilted, hands guiding Castiel’s legs a little farther apart so he could access the smooth, paler flesh of his inner thighs. He’d always enjoyed a fit body out of his masculine partners, but he’d never worshiped a man the way he wanted to worship Castiel now with his lips.

Above him, Castiel’s breath came to him in quiet pants, his slender fingers clapped over his mouth to stifle down the truly sinful noises that rumbled in his throat. Dean skirted around the ‘good’ bits, licking a stripe against the curve of Castiel’s hip and thigh, so close to where he knew Castiel wanted him to be.

“Dean!” Castiel gasped as Dean blew a soft breath along the wet skin.

“You like that—“Dean’s tease lodged in his throat as he flicked his eyes up. Pink clung to Castiel’s cheeks at being spread out the way he was, but it was the wild, hungry way he stared down at him that made Dean’s mouth run dry. Castiel looked ready to eat him if Dean didn’t start getting to the good parts soon, and he was a-ok with that.

“Fuck, Cas...” He breathed, sliding up the length of his body until their lips could meet. Instantly Castiel’s arms were around his shoulders, tugging his body flush with his as they devoured each other’s mouths. The drag of a thin layer of cloth between them was maddening, and they broke apart long enough to clumsily tug down his sleep pants until they were at least around his knees. The first drag of their groins slotting against each other had them groaning into another kiss, relieved and craving more by the second.

A small murmur into his lips made Dean reluctantly lean up, a dazed look of question scrunching up his face as he peered down at his lover like he might have gone insane. Castiel sucked in a steadying breath, shivering under another slid of their hips, “W... wait. I want... I want you to—,” He swallowed, eyes looking anywhere but Dean’s. “Look in the nightstand.” He ordered, nearly shoving Dean off him in his insistence.

A fangless grumble had him pouting as Dean reluctantly leaned over to the nightstand and tugged it open with an impatient jerk. "What’s the—“Oh, oh. ”—...Cas?” He was staring down at a new package of condoms and an obnoxiously bright pink vibrator. The vibrator was small, a ‘beginner’ model he was sure, but more importantly, it was in Castiel’s fucking nightstand.

He heard Castiel swallow hard and shift under him, "I…I’ve been trying to— I looked some things up, to prepare.” Dean wasn’t sure what made his dick twitch harder, hearing Castiel say that, or imagining the shy man working the cute little vibe in and out of his ass.

“To prepare?”

Castiel was practically trembling under him, both in arousal and embarrassment. "I— wanted you to... If you want to. I think— maybe we can try?” It was a physical effort for him to say that much, but Dean looked down to see Castiel’s legs widening, and his meaning was clear enough.  


Dean’s brain fuzzed over into white noise. Castiel, in his oh-so-subtle way, was asking him to fuck— No wait, not fuck. That was too impersonal. This was beyond fucking. He wouldn’t go so far as to say, ‘making love’ just yet, but it was somewhere between the two. More importantly, this is Castiel’s first time and there was no way in hell Dean was going to screw it up by just ‘fucking’ him. “Are you sure?” He leaned up briefly, staring down at the older, but more reserved man below him who looked like he was about to burst into flames from the intensity of the blush on his cheeks.

With a sharp nod, Castiel wiggled down a little further onto the bed, bringing him in line with Dean’s knees. Dean didn’t know when Castiel had even had time to ‘practice’ or how he’d hidden the purchase, but it wasn’t like they were attached at the hip. He went out with Sammy often enough that Castiel must’ve taken the opportunity to do a bit of self-exploration over the past weeks. And god wasn’t that an attractive image.

“You’re going to kill me.” Dean huffed a laugh, bending back down to nip gently at Castiel’s lower lip to sooth the brief look of concern off the patissier’s face. “And yeah. I can do that, but we’re going to go slow, okay? Even if you think you’re ready, let me lead.” He murmured into Castiel’s kiss-swollen lips before leaning back up to fish out a bottle of lube tucked up near the condoms, and one of the foil-wrapped squares.

Nodding once more, Castiel worked to steady his breathing while he watched Dean finish tugging off his pajama pants to join his own on the floor. “I made sure to clean myself thoroughly while I showered, I read online that—Dean, don’t laugh at me.” Seeing the small pout that formed on Castiel’s lips from his little burst of chuckles only made him laugh harder.

He couldn’t help it. He could just picture Castiel bent over his laptop googling ‘How two men have sex’, and reading ‘how-tos'. It was so very Cas. Dean knew he had some hang-ups about hygiene and sex being messy, so he was at least glad Castiel had done something to make him feel a little more at ease about it. Castiel had swallowed up as much of his cum as he could the first time he’d had blown him just because he didn’t want it getting on the couch and the tissue box had been too far away. The resulting pout at having a stray dribble escape his lips had been both adorable and a new chapter in Dean’s fast growing mental spank-bank that had a big blaring ‘Cas’ written over the door in neon. For a man that had been painfully averse to seeing even his shirt undone, Castiel was a quick study in everything he ever did. Even if he had made him take a shower before they had ever detoured off into Dean teaching Castiel about blowjobs, he figured he could let it slide considering how fun the result was.

“You been thinking about this a lot Cas?” Dean inquired, brow quirking in a way that demolished the faint sulk around Castiel’s lips and had him right back in the moment.

“... since last week. When you—“His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and Dean was tempted to bend down and suck on it, explanation or not. ”—started kneading my backside.” It had been an intense make out session, pinning Castiel up against the counter and kissing him breathless. Dinner had almost burned and Dean hadn’t even cared, all he could focus on was his hands on Castiel’s ass, and feeling the pert, muscular swells underneath his hands.

Dean snickered like a four-year-old at Castiel’s choice of wording, but let it slide. “Oh yeah? You’ve been thinking about my hands on your ass all week?” Dean popped the top of the lube bottle, pouring a liberal amount on his finger tips and palm as he used his free hand to press one of Castiel’s legs back to give him the signal to lift a little.

“Dean!” Castiel hid his face behind his arms before Dean had even gotten his slicked-up hand near his hole. Apparently, dirty-talk was still a bit much for him. Dean made a mental note to introduce him to that particularly fun bag of sexy a little later.

“Sorry sorry, just teasing.” Dean’s winning grin coaxed Castiel to peer through the crack of his crossed forearms. His arms snapped back down to the bed the moment Dean’s wet fingers found their way to the cleft of his ass. Dean slicked up Castiel’s entrance until the wet slide of his fingers against it melded with the staccato gasps his lover made. “If this gets to be too much, you tell me, okay?” As much as he enjoyed seeing Castiel’s expression every time he taught him something wonderful and new, he didn’t want Castiel to be pressing his boundaries too soon. The little bob of his head wasn’t enough, and Dean pressed further, fingers pausing as they circled Castiel’s tight ring. “Okay?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” As a ‘reward’ Dean began nudging his first finger inside, slow and steady, even with the little encouraging wiggles Castiel’s hips were giving him. He wished he could record the breathy gasps of his name on Castiel’s lips. The gasps gave way to a sharp inhale as soon as his middle finger joined his index, slowly slipping in and out until he could begin to widen and twist. His finger splayed and Castiel’s whole body twitched, lips falling open with a soft ‘oh’. 

“Does it feel good Cas?” He murmured low, eyes fixed on Castiel’s face to savor every expression. He’d been so stoic since this first day they met it had taken Dean weeks to be able to tell when something pleased or frustrated Castiel, but now he could read him like a favorite book. The way his forehead creased when his brows raised in scrutiny, or the soft purse of his lips when he concentrated. No expression, however, could hold a candle to the one he made now, surrendered under his hand and lips parted around his name.

Castiel swallowed, legs twitching as a low hum rumbled from his chest.” D-dean... it feels good.” Even that much made his face darken, embarrassed to be so vocal. Dean would be the first to tell a lover that he was a vocal one, Castiel had found out as much the more they experimented, but to Castiel, making so much noise made him want to hide away. Only the enraptured stare Dean made at each noise kept his hand from drifting back to cover his lips.

Another finger joined the two, rolling and stretching until the small reservations Castiel had were massaged away from the inside out. His head fell back against the pillow, legs spreading even wider as he tried to resist the urge to press down further onto Dean’s fingers. Dean could tell by the desperate shifts of his hips that Castiel wanted him to touch there, but he would hold off on granting his wish for now. His own pulsing need was fast growing, making him want to skip teasing Cas altogether and go for the gold. This was Castiel’s first time and he wasn’t about to rush through it, even if he ended up shaking from the effort of it.

When he finally pressed his fingers up, Castiel’s back arched from the bed with a sharp, strangled gasp. “Th..there!” He begged as if Dean needed more incentive to pass back over his sweet-spot. He kept lazily working his fingers in and out as he picked up the condom resting near his feet, tearing the small package open with practiced ease. If he could write putting a condom on one-handed as a talent on his resume without Sam threatening to burn it after, he would. It took a little more coordination than he wanted to allocate brainpower to, but there was no force on earth that would keep him from fucking his fingers into Castiel with all the blissed out moans he was making. Sliding the slick rubber over his swelled length pulled a low groan from his chest, reveling in the moment of friction against his neglect.

“Are you ready for me?” He knew Castiel didn’t like any dirty-talk just yet, but he couldn’t resist goading another plaintive word out of him when he could. The impatient near-whine he received as his fingers withdrew was almost as good as hearing Castiel beg. Perhaps, if Cas liked this enough for a repeat, he could coax more out of him another night.

Their eyes met as Dean eased further between his boyfriend’s legs, far enough apart that nothing brushed. Another hard shiver danced up his spine as he poured a liberal amount of lube into his palm to slick himself up, noting with some amusement that Castiel watched with rapt attention each wet slide he made up his sheathed cock. “I’ll go slow.” He promised once more, hands sweeping lazily along the supple, strong muscle of Castiel’s thighs that were littered with faint kiss-marks.

He’d never been subject to such an intense stare as he lined himself up, feeling the weight of Castiel’s too-blue eyes like the moon suspended before him. Hell, he never got nervous to sleep with someone before, but he felt like if he didn’t concentrate his hands might shake so much he’d never be able to line himself up. More than he wanted to fuck into Castiel like his life depended on it, he wanted Cas to enjoy it enough to come back for more. Now that he’d come to know the taste of Castiel’s lips or the intoxicating touch of his soft hands, Dean didn’t think he could go back to just sharing space. If Castiel up and decided that’s what he wanted, he would sure as hell try, but he’d always crave what he’d had a sampling of. Perhaps if he wasn’t so intent on what he was doing to dwell on that, he would have realized the frantic butterflies that had taken residence within his ribcage.

The first press of tight warmth against his head obliterated any further conscious thought. Castiel’s snug ring slid over him, and twin groans melded in the warm air. Inch by slow inch, he pressed into the exquisite heat until he bottomed out, hips flush against Castiel’s. Arms slid up around his shoulders as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to the waiting mouth below him. He’d wait until he was absolutely sure Castiel was used to his length nestled within him, kissing and sucking at his swollen lips to elicit all the quiet pleased purrs he could.

It felt like an eternity later that Castiel broke their kiss, “Dean… you can move now.” He rumbled, hips giving a slow, encouraging shift against his own that had both sucking in shallow, ragged breaths.

He leaned up, lamenting the loss of Castiel’s lips, but all too thrilled to be granted permission to move. Dean slid back out almost completely, eyes breaking briefly to peer down at where their bodies connected. Another half-vocalized complaint spurred him back into action, hands sliding back down Castiel’s legs to rest at the joint of his thighs, using a strong grip to tug the man gently into place against him. Another few inches of himself buried within as his hands settled on Castiel’s thighs, gripping firm as he ground his hips back forward until Castiel had taken all of him once more.

Dean didn’t keep the languid pace for long. After a few test strokes, he found the motion that made Castiel gasp and writhe, drawing out and plunging home in deep, firm rolls of his hips. It was a steady, hard thrust with enough force to jostle Castiel back up against the pillows, but gentle enough to keep the hard smack of their bodies from being bruising. It was the worst and best sort of tease, providing enough force and friction to have Dean huffing pleased groans, yet it wasn’t quite enough. With a determined pause, his hands dipped, scooping up under Castiel’s hips to draw him up higher. His muscles strained under the effort of holding a man not far under him in weight at such an angle, but the burn was more than worth it after the next surge of his hips.

The ridge of his head drug over the special little spot and Castiel tensed, clenching around him hard enough to blossom stars in his vision. The renewed mewl of his name was lost in his own moan, hips momentarily stuttering their pace as Castiel alternated between relaxing and squeezing at him with each pass. “You like that? Fuck, you feel so good.” If he could formulate any more words than that he would have let praises spill out from his lips in a sonnet if he had the knack for it. God above Castiel was fit, he knew that, but it was another thing entirely to feel the planes of his muscles flexing around him like Castiel was trying to forcefully keep him inside.

Dean let one hand slid from Castiel’s hips to wrap around the arched, bobbing length of Cas’s steadily leaking cock. He could feel the molten warmth of his impending orgasm coil, and by the sound of it, Cas’s was even closer. As soon as his firm grip began to pump, Castiel lost the last bit of his resolve to keep his voice down. He desperately keened with each matched stroke with Dean’s hips, eyelids fluttering as the force of his building peak swept over him. He came with a sharp sound of surprise as if it had taken him unaware. Milky ropes painted his chest where his hips were bent, angling the pulses of his pleasure against the swells of his chest and the subtle lines of his abdomen.

Castiel had tightened around him once more, and by the time he’d started to relax into the glow of his orgasm, Dean had dropped his other hip to plant his arms near Castiel’s shoulder. Another few rolls of his hips had Dean tumbling headlong into a hot haze that punched the breath out of him, Castiel’s name on his lips as he came.

Lazy hands played along his back and shoulders, coaxing him back into the mortal realm where he’d briefly ascended far above. A shaky laugh escaped him as he peered down at Castiel as he withdrew, noting the pinched look that passed over his face at the sensation of Dean’s waning erection sliding from him. He was content to lay back on the bed after he’d tied and disposed of the condom at the bedside trash can, but he could already see Castiel peer dubiously at the mess soaking his chest.

He counted down twenty more seconds til Castiel sat up, only sparing a brief kiss to Dean’s forehead to let him know he’d enjoyed himself. Dean grinned to himself as he watched him wobble to his feet, knowing better than to offer aid in the shower. The first time he’d offered to spice up Castiel’s shower he’d received a lecture on the dangers of lack of traction, and how many household accidents took place in the bathroom. Not that he wouldn’t try again as soon as he remembered to buy one of those tacky shower floor mats that were supposed to prevent slipping.

The shower started up soon after, and Dean was content to drift until Castiel came back to inevitably kick him out of bed to shower as he changed the sheets. He wanted nothing more than to be pulled under by the wave of satisfaction and fatigue that invited him to slumber, but he struggled to sit up regardless. Call him whipped, but he’d humor Castiel’s fussy germ habits if it meant they could cuddle when they finally turned off the lights and went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For news and updates head on to my tumblr at : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/


	15. Pumpkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is getting fed up with existing near John and things come to a head. In the aftermath, Gabriel is there, and it's up to him to calm the teen down without letting things get inappropriate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initial disclaimer about this chapter! There will be someone 'underage'(depends on where you live) making a very overt pass at an adult. If makes you uncomfortable skip the kitchen scene and end with the end paragraph~~
> 
> Also, there is homophobic language used within the chapter as well. (John)
> 
>  
> 
> My beta was sick and I've had this thing done for a week so I didn't want to make you all wait any longer, sorry for any overt errors I tried turned this thing over more times than usual but you know how it goes! :/
> 
> Thanks to all that comment!!

 

Living with John Winchester had never been fun. In the years since his childhood, Samuel had grown to treat his father like a passing storm, hunkering down out of his sight and waiting for him to blow through. Except, this time, the storm was stuck at harbor. He didn’t know why John had decided to linger around the house more than usual, most likely because Dean wasn’t there, and he was barred from returning to Ellen’s. Whatever the case, Samuel felt as if he was skirting an active bomb buried in the sand, where an errant word or movement could have things exploding in his face before he knew it. 

Sighing, he shifted on his bed, forehead resting against his open textbook. He needed to be studying, but every footstep from the floor below was amplified by his nerves. They’d exchanged a handful of words in the days John had lingered around the home, all terse, and quite a few snarked remarks about where Dean was staying. He hadn’t risen to the bait so far, clenching his teeth each time hard enough to bloom a dull creeping headache against his temples.

It was no use; he couldn’t study like this. He was hungry from camping out in his room all day, and eventually, he needed to get up and use the restroom. Discomfort and hunger were driving him out of his locked door, and that only soured his mood further. 

His first creeping step into the hall didn’t turn up immediate signs of his father’s whereabouts, and no amount of ear-straining could detect any footsteps. Good, perhaps he finally took the hint and left, as he had so many times before. At this point, he didn’t know why John came back at all. He could have packed up and left into the sunset years ago, and he and Dean would have been just fine, or better.

He nursed that bitterness all through relieving his bladder and his shower; purging the dark emotions that John brought out in him into the hot water that poured down his back and shoulders. The steam heat of the scorching shower eased him enough where he didn’t feel quite so primed to head off to a perceived war just to fetch himself something to eat. He’d been good about keeping up with the groceries, wanting to prove to Dean that he was more than capable of taking care of himself when he went off to college. Not that he hadn’t appreciated his older brother taking such good care of him all these years, but he was creeping closer to eighteen, and he wanted to be able to stand on his own.

He’d been dragging on a fresh T-shirt from his dresser when he was plunged into darkness, only the fading light from the setting sun outside illuminating his room. “What the fuck?” His brows furrowed, stomping to his light switch and giving it a few test flicks. Nothing. What gives? A quick cross of the hall revealed that Dean’s room and the bathroom were without power as well. That didn’t make sense; Dean had the light and gas set up for automatic payment from an account he paid money into every month just for bills. He’d set up the account ages ago when John first began flaking on them and the bills and had kept it steady-

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me..” John had co-signed on the account, insisting that there was no way in hell Dean was going to be squirreling away money for god-knows-what ‘at his age.' His name was still on the account, forgotten by Dean and Sam for years. John had never stolen from it before, but then again, he’d never been quite so off the rails either. He was getting worse every year, why had Sam expected better?

“Dad!” He shouted, stomping down the steps to the first level of the aging two-story home. Once again, he didn’t see any clear signs of John, and he hurried towards the small tin box Dean kept in a cabinet near the fridge. Sure enough, the bank book was gone from it, and so was the unused debit card that had gone with the account. Everything was automatic; Dean had only ever needed deposit slips before.

A grumble from the couch in the living room had Samuel’s hackles rising. “Did you take Dean’s money for the bills?” He whirled around, striding into the living room as if his heart wasn’t beating in his throat at the tone he was taking with John Winchester.

“You yellin’ at me boy?” The man sat up, hair disheveled and still smelling like a distillery. “I borrowed something from an account that still had my name on it. Don’t take that tone with me.” Despite still being steeped, his eyes were as sharp as Sam ever remembered, and it took everything within him not to back down.

“How could you do that? Dean keeps track of that every month, and now the account will be delinquent!” Samuel kept the back of the couch between them, forcing John to twist in his seat to keep glaring at him like an unruly child.

Smirking, John rose unsteadily to his feet.” He should have thought of that before he -.Where’d he go off to anyway? If he’s at Bobby’s I swear-“ The man’s jaw tensed, his dislike for the once family-friend radiating through every pore. Ever since the older man had lectured John seven ways til Sunday on how he was failing his boys, their relationship had never been the same. 

“He’s at his boyfriend's.” Samuel knew it was a mistake the moment it had left his lips, but he’d wanted to say something to wipe that look off his face for daring to have Bobby’s name on his tongue anymore, and for robbing Dean. 

John stilled, and Samuel resisted the urge to back a step. This was worse than bad. When John yelled, it was bad enough, but when he lapsed into silence, there was danger on the horizon. After what felt like ages, a rough string of curses began to spill from John’s lips, cursing at Dean and using every kind of inflammatory, bigoted insult he knew. Before he could muster the courage to snap at his father for insulting his brother, those dark eyes trained back on him, sucking the air from his lungs.

John rounded the couch, making a valiant attempt at keeping his path straight even when most of his blood was more alcohol than hemoglobin at this point. “And what about you boy? You a fag too?” Samuel needed to retreat, but that word had him seeing red. He was so sick of that awful word, and to hear his father spit it so readily was more than he could take.

“So what if I am?” He snapped, squaring his shoulders as John stood in front of him. Even with his growth-spurt, he still hadn’t managed to get to his father’s height, leaving him staring up at the two dark depths of John’s eyes. Too late did he remember the last time John faced with this kind of ‘upset,' how he’d end up popping Dean in the jaw. “You going to hit me too now? I’m sure Mom would just love how you-“He didn’t get the rest of the words out before John had the front of his shirt clutched in a closed fist, tugging him close. Samuel’s stomach dropped, and the rage that was fueling his mouth sputtered, giving way to a cold dread that he might actually end up hurt.

John’s liquored breath was hot on his face as the older man stared him down, rage wrote over his stubbled face. “You keep her out of your mouth.” His low voice was almost a growl, sending a shiver of fear down Samuel’s spine. He felt like he was a child again, staring up at two eyes that should have been looking at him with kindness, only to find a void. He didn’t know if what John felt for him was hate, disgust, or regret, but he knew it wasn’t anything a father was supposed to feel when looking at their child. 

  Swallowing the chittering fear, Samuel reared up to plant his hands against John’s chest and shoved. John stumbled back, his balled fist tugging hard enough on Sam’s shirt to dig into the back of his neck and jerk his upper body forward. John let go as he righted himself, the cold anger replaced with brighter and fast-burning in his dark eyes. Dangerous.

  Sam didn’t even stop to get his backpack, he turned tail and ran for all he was worth, tearing out of the house hard enough to send a crack up the small window of the front door when he slammed it shut behind him. Sam didn’t know where he was running to, but he knew he needed to get as many miles between him and John Winchester as he could. 

 

* * *

 

  Sometimes Gabriel enjoyed living right next to his baby brother, but tonight was not one of them. It looked to have escaped dear Castiel’s mind that their bedrooms were dangerously close to sharing an entire wall. The place had decent walls and all, but apartments were apartments no matter how fancy they were and were definitely not sound proof. 

  On one hand, Gabriel was glad Castiel was finally getting some, Lord knows it had taken long enough, but did they have to be so loud about it? Even with the stellar insulation, he could still hear- Well, things he’d rather not describe. Dean had a look to him to be a screamer, but he hadn’t expected his perpetually reserved brother to be quite so vocal. 

  Shivering with disgust, he finally abandoned his bed and got up to root himself in the living room, glaring at the wall every step of the way. “That’s just gross.” He grumbled to no one, tugging his pillow-soft canary yellow robe around him. Butterscotch had long abandoned him for the couch anyway, snuffling in quiet protest as Gabriel shimmied in beside him. “No complaining, scoot.” He huffed, reaching out to give him a fond tummy-rub as an apology.” Least someone is getting some sleep around here.”

  It had been a few days since he’d coaxed out of Castiel that he’d finally lost his virginity, and the kid looked like he was catching up for lost time. It hadn’t been hard to spot, not with the soft, marshmallow eyes he’d been casting at Dean when the Winchester had swung by to pick him up after closing. The way their hands had intertwined like lovesick teenagers, or the sweet eyes, it had all been too saccharine. They’d screwed and were being insufferable about it. Gabriel was, of course, ecstatic for his baby-bee, but losing sleep was making him soured towards the warm-fuzzies fast. If this kept up, he was going to hide a remote-controlled alarm in Castiel’s bedroom the next time he went over for dinner and press it every time the two started getting raucous. 

  He was half way through a rerun when his phone chimed. Puzzled, he fished it from his pocket, brows furrowing deeper when he saw who had sent it.   

[Buzz me in. Don’t tell Dean.] 

  Buzz him- Shit, was he at the apartment building? He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over his bunny slippers to get into the entry way where the entry-pad was. With one hand, he typed the code to the front door, and with his other, he fired off a quick [It’s open]. 

  Sam knew where he lived just because he’d been over to Castiel enough the past few weeks to eat and hang out. No one had wanted the kid to spend extended periods of time at home, and he had a sinking feeling he was about to see the tree of that god-awful decision to let him stay at the family home bear fruit. Goddammit if that kid walked in here with a bruise Gabriel was going to lose it. 

  He couldn’t wait behind his door. Instead, he stepped outside, hovering in the doorway with the door propped, fingers tapping restlessly against his hip. Finally, the chime of the elevator echoed down the hall, and an all-too-familiar body stepped out of it. Gabriel didn’t care if he got caught staring, he looked over the teenager as he came walking sheepishly up the corridor. He wasn’t limping or visibly hurt anywhere, but Gabriel’s had a chest full of angry wasps buzzing away in his chest, whispering all sorts of things to feed his anxiety. 

  “God kid, you look like hell. What happened?” Sam looked- a hell of a lot like the time he’d stumbled across him in the park. Lost, alone, and worse, scared. Scared was a new touch to that look, and Gabriel was sorely tempted to reach out and give him a pat down just to confirm that he was one-hundred-percent without damage. Knowing Sam, he might keep something like getting hit from him, so it didn’t get back to Dean. 

  To his surprise, Samuel walked right up to him, bent, and leaned his forehead against the softness of his robed shoulder. “...Gumbi? You okay there?” His voice was betraying his worry, and he knew it, but the teenager’s sudden appearance in the middle of the night had him on high-alert.

  A heavy sigh was breathed into his shoulder, “Yeah just…tired. Da- John, stole from Dean and I just snapped and-“He sighed once more, this one soul-deep.” Can I come in?” It shouldn’t make him hesitate, but for one shameful moment, it did. He’d wanted to avoid any situations where he and Sam were alone together like this, but now that he was faced with the option of turning around and knocking down Castiel’s door to get Dean, he was unwilling to do so. Dean and Castiel were occupied, Sam looked tired but okay, and he was an adult. He was capable of keeping the teen under control- And that wasn’t entirely just him trying to convince himself either.

 “Of course, Sasquatch.” Gabriel still hadn’t forgiven the teen for shooting up over the seasons. It wasn’t fair when he’d first seen the lanky floppy-haired teen he’d been a bit stretched out, but still all awkward teenager angles. It felt like overnight that Gabriel was faced with a young man a head taller than he was and filling out in ways he just didn’t want to think about without slapping a big of ‘Old and creepy’ sticker over his forehead. 

 “Come on; you’re bumming me out with the puppy dog eyes, I get enough of that from Butterscotch.” He ushered Sam inside, eyes gently rolling as the dog in question instantly popped up from the couch to rush the young Winchester.” Traitor.” He smirked down at the excitable pup as he turned to look the door.” Mi Casa, blah blah, you know the drill make yourself comfy.” He gestured vaguely to the layout of the apartment, which was just about identical to Castiel’s, save for that the design was inverted. 

“Thanks,” Sam replied with a grateful sigh as he went to make himself comfortable on the couch, Butterscotch in tow. 

 Gabriel went to retrieve a glass of water and a bowl of M&Ms from the counter before returning to the couch, ushering his dog aside so he could root himself down at the other end of the teen. "Here. Family drama needs sugar, cosmic rule.” He passed off the glass and bowl, nodding in satisfaction as Sam set the bowl in the valley of his crooked knee. “You said your dad jacked some of Dean’s cash? Seriously?”

He’d figured a man that would hit his kid had to be a real heel but to steal from him too? That was messed up in ways Gabriel couldn’t dwell on without bile eating at his stomach.

  Slumping further into the couch, Sam set the water glass aside and reached to continue carding his long fingers through Butterscotch’s soft fur now that the pup had taken to pressing his body against Sam’s legs after being kicked from the couch.” Yeah, he cleaned out the Bill account and got the power cut off. I’ll tell Dean tomorrow- God, he’s going to go through the roof.” Sam’s face pinched. Now doubt Dean would go down there geared for a fight, and knowing John, he’d get one. He didn’t want his big brother getting hurt again by someone that was supposed to be their father and not just a dark cloud.

  “Don’t worry about it now. That’s the morning’s problem.” Gabriel wasn’t about to let the kid sit here and agonize over it all night. 

  Bobbing his head slightly, Sam decided maybe Gabriel was right. He could deal with things in the morning when he wasn’t so beat.” Can I use your shower? I feel gross.” He’d booked it from his house and had been walking ever since head too wrapped up in the mess that was their father to worry about much else.

  “Yeah, go ahead, chuck your clothes out and I’ll run them through the washing machine. There’s another robe on the back of the door, which will probably be a lovely summer-dress on you but we can’t all be dusting the stratosphere now can we?” He teased as he stood, shoving his hands down into his downy pockets.

  Only now did the younger man notice just what Gabriel was wearing. Sam looked Gabe over with a critical eye, a slow amused grin curling one side of his lips.” Bunny slippers Gabriel? Really?” 

 Huffing, Gabriel stood a little taller and thrust out one of his floppy slippers.” I’ve got sharks too! Don’t knock my style, Winchester, you wish you had this much swag.” Sam groaned loudly at the choice in vernacular as he stood. “Bathroom’s that way, knock yourself out.” He stuck out his tongue at the lingering smirk on Sam’s lips as he departed for the shower.  

After chucking Sam’s clothes in the washing machine and starting up a pan of milk to warm over the stove for hot-chocolate, Gabriel waited for the squeaky-clean teen to emerge. He was doggedly not thinking that this all felt like a horrible idea and that he needed to march his ass over to his brother’s apartment and bang on the door till the two extracted themselves out of each other’s arms and answered the door. Sam had agreed just be friends, but that meant little to a teenager, and Gabriel knew it, and he was too stupid to risk hurting Sam’s feelings any more than he had.

 Footsteps coming down the hall pulled his attention back into the now, but as soon as he turned to greet Sam, he wished he wouldn’t have looked. The seventeen-year-old at least had a towel on, and the robe, but said towel was slung low enough to scandalize and the robe had been left open. Gabriel’s eyes snapped back to the stove almost instantly, inwardly groaning his life and all the decisions he’d made that had lead to this kind of ridiculous situation.

 “Squeaky clean?” Gabriel applauded his ability at bullshitting a situation into normalcy.

  “Yeah, thanks. Second one I had today but I wanted to get all of that mess of me.” Sam grumbled as he stepped into the kitchen, peering to see what Gabriel was doing.” Thanks, by the way. You didn’t have to answer, and you could have gone to get Dean. So, thank you.” His hand fell on Gabriel’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“No problem, I think Dean’s a little occupied anyway.” Gabriel scrunched his nose slightly as he dumped in some cocoa powder and sugar into the pot, satisfied that he got a sound of disgust out of the teen as well. If he could derail Sam with gross-out mental images of his brother maybe he could skate around all of this without incident. 

 Sam shifted to lean against the island of the kitchen, hands pressed against the counter top. It wasn’t a position Gabriel would have taken if he was worried about keeping a towel around his waist, but he hoped Sam was just confident in his towel-tucking technique and not hoping for any ‘accidents.' “Gross.” 

  Gabriel shuffled around the kitchen, retrieving a loaf of bread and a few other items for a midnight snack.” You’re telling me, I live right next to it-“He back-glanced to shoot a long-suffering look at the teenager, and once again, he wished he hadn’t. The towel he’d been dreading all along hadn’t lasted in the position Sam had taken, and it slid away with a ‘careless’ shift of the teen’s leg. His head snapped back around as he set the peanut butter jar down, praying to any god that would listen to strike him down because there was no way he was going to get out this situation with any elegance. 

  “Gabe.”

  He knew a ‘come hither’ voice when he heard one, and that was a damn neon run away. He ignored it with everything within him and reached over to turn the burner on the cocoa down before it bubbled over. His lack of response didn’t have the decided effect, rather, it did the opposite. Sam slid up behind him, long arms reaching to snake around his chest, lips brushing against the top of his right ear. 

“Did you hear me?”

   Nope. Hell no. Gabriel had to put and end to this now before the teenager did something really stupid. Like, go for the tie of his robe. His hand snapped over Sam’s before it could creep any closer, and he sucked in a breath to steel himself for what was going to be the most awkward conversation he’d ever had in his life, and that was even counting the time the babysitter had caught him jerking off in the bathroom.

“Pump..pump the breaks there kid.” Gabriel tried to keep his voice light, but he was having a hard time not running to the other side of the room and tapping ‘Do not touch’ all over himself like a crime scene, which felt like a fitting analogy considering how messed up this situation was. 

 He stepped away from Sam’s arms, silently cursing the frown that had curled over the younger’s lips.” Remember what we said before right? The age difference thing, it’s just- not that I’m not flattered or anything but…” He trailed lamely, having a hard time looking Sam in the eye when he knew how underdressed he was.

  “So? I’ll be eighteen soon.” Sam pressed, but he blessedly re-tied his robe despite his protest.

   “And we’ll totally revisit this conversation then, but until then how about a snack and some cocoa?” Gabriel felt like he needed to go to church after that, and the allure of cramming whatever sugar he could get into his stomach before crawling into his bed like a cockroach was pretty appealing. 

 At the petulant nod, Gabriel returned to the stove and retrieved a few mugs. In short order, he produced a banana-peanut butter sandwich (he’d recalled Sam mentioning that as a favorite a few weeks ago), and a piping hot mug of hot chocolate in front of the teenager. “Come on, let’s eat and watch some shitty night-time tv.” Gabriel offered, hoping Sam would accept instead of shutting him out in the wake of his ‘rejection.'

  Sam hesitated, still embarrassed to have made himself so available only to be rebuffed. Still, he could appreciate Gabriel’s resolve. With a small smile, he accepted the plate and cocoa, “As long as it’s not Dr. Sexy. Dean rewatches it like a forty-year-old housewife.” They laughed as they returned to the couch, happily munching on their sandwiches and M&Ms until the argument with John felt far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit is going to go down next chapter! Dundundunnn~
> 
> For updates on this fic and fics to come go to my tumblr :http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/


	16. French Silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters and the Novaks enjoy a bit of deserved quiet, but it doesn't last as long as they'd hoped. John decides to confront them at the bakery, and things come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the next to last chapter! Took long enough eh?
> 
> For warning, there are homophobic slangs in this chapter and homophobic remarks. 
> 
> Also, as I've said on my tumblr I'll be doing a few off-shots of this story, so if anyone has any requests or little moments they'd like to see just suggest them! I'll take a few of the suggestions (either on here or on tumblr) and write them up :D Gotta give Sam and Gabe their moment right? ;)

 To say the days that followed Sam’s escape into the night were interesting would be an understatement. It had taken both Castiel and Sam to talk Dean out of storming down to the Winchester house and hauling John out on his ass.  It was everyone’s consensus that considering John’s turbulent state of mind the past months that avoiding an all-out conflict was wise. No one wanted Dean getting hurt or things escalating needlessly.

“Fine. We’ll starve him out. Metaphorically.” Dean decided with a grumble, figuring that if he called to shut down the power and water in the house that eventually John would wander off. He’d change the locks and get a security alarm installed later, and maybe then they could have some peace. Not that he was in any hurry to return, but he figured with Sam going to school so soon he wanted to get in some extra time with his baby brother while he could. What would happen _after_ Sam went to school, well Dean was sure they could figure it out.

The news that Sam had fled to Gabriel’s instead of the apartment over hadn’t sat well with the oldest Winchester, but after a thorough interrogation of the pint-sized pain in the ass, Dean had given Gabriel a pass. He’d never needed to know his baby brother had tried to go boy-next-door on the guy, but he appreciated the honesty, however vomit-inducing. He trusted Gabriel to keep his hands off and had given Sam a stern talking to that had been as awkward for him as it had been for the teenager. No one wanted to hear their big-brother giving them the ‘urges’ talk, especially when Sam was on the cusp of eighteen.

Dean made one brave trip back so he could snag Sam’s school books and some clothes. It had been late enough where he’d been sure John would be out bar-crawling, and Castiel had insisted he wait in the car ‘as backup,' much to everyone’s amusement.

 Days wore on, and it was a little easier to forget the quiet battle being waged, and tensions began to ease. The quiet was easy to mistake for safety, and nearly a week later would see the culmination of the Winchester’s struggles.

 “You’re not really going to put those out there are you?” Sam softly whined as he watched Castiel place the off-center pastries he’d helped assembled onto a tray.

 Gabriel snorted a small laugh and clapped the teen over the shoulder as he strode past towards his office. “Relax kid, they’re-..’ _paris-brest’-“_ He hazarded a glance towards Castiel to see if he’d gotten it right, “They always look like squashed cream-blobs to me.”

By now Castiel knew he should be used to his brother’s lackadaisical descriptions of French classics, but his eyes rolled regardless. “They’re not-, I’m not even going to correct you. You won’t learn anyway.” He grumbled as he plated the rest of the pastries and went to the front to stock the cases.

Castiel would admit having the spare set of hands around the shop the past few days was freeing. Even if he and Gabriel had insisted Sam didn’t have to help, the teen had refused to, in his own words, ‘Take up space and not do anything.' The need to prove himself useful wasn’t apparently limited to the older Winchester brother alone.

It was the lull in the hours after the Sunday morning brunch hours when Castiel heard the bell chime over the door. Of course, someone always walked in when he was busy precariously assembling the desserts on their chilled plates in the display cases.  “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” He rumbled, failing to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“You’re the fag my son is fucking, right?”  
  
The deep, slurred voice that ‘greeted’ him had him dropping the last of the stacked cream-horns haphazardly into the case with a sharp curse. Castiel looked up to see John Winchester standing in the middle of the floor, bloodshot eyes staring hot with hatred. He never got the chance to scrape up a reply from his speechless state before the man continued.

“Where the fuck are my sons?” The few regular customers in the café glanced nervously between the men.

“Mr. Winchester if you’d care to-“ “Listen to me you cocksucker, Where are my goddamn kids.”  Castiel had never been on the receiving end of any slurs spewed so _vehemently_ before. Speechless, he stared in confusion at the mingled look of disgust and rage thrown his way.

Footsteps paused at the doorframe as Sam stepped up from the back, wiping powder sugar onto his borrowed apron. Seeing the commotion, his face hardened into a battle-ready mask that Castiel had seen out of Dean when he’d stepped from the car to retrieve the teen’s things days ago.  
“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Who do you think you are talking to me like there? Where’s your ungrateful brother?” John made to come closer, side-glancing with a nearly amused smirk as Castiel automatically edged closer to Sam as well.

 Sam scoffed and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest, “Ever try looking for him _at his job_? Remember what those are? Or are you so distilled the concept-“Sam knew he’d been pushing it, but the sense of security he had from being away from the house had made him feel bold. John’s face had deepened to an outraged rust with each new barb his son tossed out until he snapped.

The drunken man closed the distance between them faster than Castiel would have thought a man that reeked of that much alcohol could manage. The two Winchester’s were soon pressed dangerously close, volleying years of pent-up anger.

“You think you’re tough boy?” “Tougher than you, you gross drunk. Finally cut out the middle man and just started bathing-““One more goddamn word and I swear to god-“ “You’ll what? Try it.” Their voices crescendoed until they were all but shouting at each other.

“I don’t have to sit here and take this shit from a brat I don’t even know is mine!” John snarled, stunning Sam momentarily to step back. Sam had always vaguely wondered because of the man’s distaste towards him since he was a small child, but he’d thought that had only been said in anger.

Nearby, Castiel sucked in a sharp breath. He could see the hurt lancing through the teenager’s face as clear as day. John had struck a chord and had once again done something to harm one of his children, and this looked to be longer lasting than even the swollen cheek Dean had received.

  
The patissier stepped close, pressing Sam gently out of the way so he could square off against John before he could turn his hand on the teenager again. “Listen to me you repugnant jackass, Not only are you disrupting my business but you’re also causing untold damage to your _children_ in the process. I’ve kept my mouth shut long enough, and I’m drawing the line. You’re detestable and your kids- No, you don’t get that right. _Dean and Sam_ are very dear to me, and I won’t tolerate it. So, you can either get out now, I throw you out, or I’ll call the police, your choice but mark my words by the end of this conversation you will be outside.” Castiel wasn’t sure where the vitriol came from. He was a generally grouchy person by nature at points, but rarely did he get so angry to raise his voice at someone, let alone _threaten_ them.  
  
He made the mistake of thinking the older man capable of reacting reasonably at this point in the conversation.  “Are you threatening me boy?” John Winchester leveled at him, hard eyes trying to intimidate him to back down.  
  
Castiel’s jaw squared, tipping up just slightly to get his unwavering stare even with the taller man’s. “I believe I am.” He answered low and warning.

To his credit, John moved fast. Castiel barely had enough time to react once he saw the man’s weight shift, and his arm raise. He could hear Sam’s gasped ‘Oh shit!’ behind him as he side-stepped, his own arm coming up to catch the middle-aged man’s collar as his fist breezed past Castiel’s face. Castiel’s lips twisted into a hard scowl as he righted his center on his feet, and did something he hadn’t done since he’d taken that course of self-defense classes with some friends at University. His first connected solidly with John’s jaw and sent him sprawling on the linoleum.

Sighing, he rubbed his fingers over his knuckles that were steadily blaring their discomfort at having to hit something other than pastry dough. He didn’t spare a glance at the fallen man, instead turning to Sam. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean-““Cas look out!” Castiel’s brows furrowed, realizing the John was getting back to his feet about the same time as he spied Gabriel hurrying to the doorway from the back, no doubt drawn by the ruckus.

 

* * *

Dean could feel his heart beating in his throat as he sped to the shop, quietly thanking a god he didn’t believe in that he’d driven to work today instead of walked. Sam had called him in a state of panic, and the only thing he’d gotten out of was John had shown up, and a fight had ensued. He wasn’t sure if that meant _Sam_ had fought, or who fought who, but he’d heard the ‘woopwoop’ of an approaching police car in the background before Sam had hung up, and that was enough to get his nerves on edge.

He’d been an idiot to think that John would have enough sense not to show up at his boyfriend’s workplace. It wasn’t like it was hard to figure out where Castiel even worked, there were only so many bakeries in walking distance of both the garage and their house, and he was sure either he or Sammy had left a leftover bag out where John could have spied their logo.

“ _Dammit!”_ He hissed, fingers gripping his steering wheel to the point of creaking. He could take their father making his life difficult, but going after Sam, and now Cas? There was no trying to keep the peace after this, war had been declared, and Dean had all the advantages. He wouldn’t be losing this one.  
  
He burst into the store hard enough to dent the little bell above the door. Immediately to his right, he could see Gabriel talking to a singular cop, and there was no sign of John, which meant that he had probably been hauled off by another one and this guy was just getting statements. Dismissing that scene as unimportant his eyes flicked to the only other people left in the Bakery after the mess, and his heart lurched in his throat. Sam was busy leaning over Cas who had worked up a pretty impressive pout while seated in a pulled-out chair, letting Sam press a cool cloth against the corner of his mouth. Blood came away on the cloth, and Dean knew he would have gone after John right then had the man still been in the store.

“Jesus Christ Cas! Are you okay? What the fuck happened?” Dean rushed over, gently taking Castiel’s face in his hands so he could inspect the damage and reassure himself that Castiel was more or less alright. He had a split lip and a bruise beginning to show on the right side of his forehead, but nothing bad enough where he’d need another more than a few ice cubes or some aspirin.  
  
 Castiel’s eyes looked a little cagey to him, and when he answered, he didn’t fully let their gaze connect. “It didn’t think he’d get back up.” He grumbled quietly.  
  
“Cas punched the tar out of him; it was awesome Dean!” Sam supplied instead, a small smile quirking his lips. The teenager had a hand gently massaging over his rib cage where he’d taken an elbow trying to dispel the fight, but Gabriel had seen to that by calling the cops the moment he’d heard Sam and John yelling in the front.

“You punched him?” Dean blinked in surprise, a tiny smile curling his lips as he watched Castiel duck his head a little. Huffing a quiet laugh Dean bent to press a tender kiss to the side of Castiel’s head not working up a bruised knot.

Castiel eased a little at the kiss, head tilting back up to cast a cautious glance at his lover, as if afraid that Dean would be angry with him. “I…might have reacted with more force than I’d meant to when he took a swing at me. I hadn’t anticipated he would get back up afterward. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interfere, but I couldn’t just stand there- “His hurried explanation stilled as Dean pressed the pad of his thumb to his lips, confusion blossoming in his eyes.

“Cas it’s okay. I’m not mad. I’m just glad you’re okay, that _everyone_ is okay.” Dean looked over at Sam, the worry he’d been carrying with him the entire car ride over still written over his face. “So tell me what happened.”  
  
Now Sam took a turn at looking sheepish, “He just...came in here yelling at Cas, asking where we were, calling him every bad thing he could think of. It pissed me off so I just, kind of, started yelling back. Then he- “, Sam frowned, shoulders slouching.”-I don’t know if he was serious or not, but he got pissed at how I was talking to him and said he didn’t have to take that from someone he didn’t even know was his or not. Then Cas jumped in and tore him a new one, and he got even more pissed and took a swing at him.” The teen trailed since Dean already knew what happened after that point.

 Dean took a step back, scrubbing angry hands back through his hair with a slow breath. “That bastard.” He breathed, barely able to contain the bubble of rage that swelled in his chest at hearing what John had the nerve to say to Sammy. He’d heard it before from him, and Dean didn’t even know if it was true or not. He didn’t care to find out. Full blood brothers or half, Sammy was his baby brother and John being his father or not had nothing to do with how the man had treated Sam over the years. Dean figured John had just been taking out his own personal failing and rage on his children in different ways, but this was just cruel.

“Fucker can stay in jail. I’m getting the locks changed and all the accounts closed out with his name still on it. When he gets out, he isn’t getting back in.” Dean announced resolutely, “We’re done with him.” Truthfully Dean had been considering selling the place entirely. The house didn’t hold the same nostalgia it had years ago, and with Sam heading off to college, and Dean pulling a steady income.Well, he could use the money from the sale to relocate somewhere else. The house was still in Bobby’s name from when his parents had rent to own the place when they’d first gotten married, and even after Dean had finished off the final payments a two years ago he’d kept it in Bobby’s name just to make sure John wouldn’t sell it out from under them. He could just put in some work on it, paint it, make a few repairs he’d needed to for the past few months and they’d be golden. He could even use some of the money from the sale to help Sam pay for school.  
  
Slowly, he bobbed his head as the remaining bricks of his laid-out plan fell into place. “We’ll be fine.” He decided, turning back to the other two, and giving a small look towards Gabriel as he walked over after the officer had left.

“That’s the spirit Freckles.” Gabriel grinned, “Officer says if anyone wants to press charges we can, but I figured I’d let you guys sort that one out.” If it was up to him, then hell yes, he’d see to it disturbing the peace and assault charges were filed. It had taken every ounce of adult responsibility in him to call the police instead of charging into the room in all his big-brother fury when he heard Castiel weigh into it. The bruise on Sam’s ribs had only sealed the deal.

Dean and Sam shared a long look, a dark resolve filtering over Sam’s face that was soon echoed by his elder brother’s. “Go ahead; we don’t give a shit what happens to him.” Dean decided with a sniff, returning to his quiet fussing over Castiel’s lip.

“Hot damn, have I mentioned one of our brothers is a lawyer?” Gabriel said sweetly while he walked to the front door to flip the sign to ‘closed,' and lock up the front door. “I’ll give him a call, but meantime, I think everyone needs something sugary and some coffee.”

Dean looked back up, a small, wiry smile tugging at his plush lips. “For once half-pint, I agree with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For updates on this fic and others head over to my tumblr at : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and click on my fanfics tab :)


	17. A la mode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam returns from his first semester of college to an anxious Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is~ The final(kinda) chapter.  
> Never fear! After a short health break(see my tumblr for details) I will write a few one-shots for this verse, and I'll take suggestions for anything you guys want to see play out.  
> Thank you sooo much to all my long-time readers for sticking with me, and Hello and thanks to my new readers as well!

Gabriel had never been more nervous in his life, which was ridiculous because he was firmly in the ‘grown ass man’ territory and shouldn’t be so jittery. His body didn’t get that memo, and he hadn’t stopped moving all morning. So far, he’d scrubbed down the cases, swept and mopped the floor, and even did _filing_ for God’s sake, but it still wasn’t five o’clock and each minute felt like torture.  

 

“Dude, would you take a chill pill? He’s _my_ brother.” Dean smirked at him from a nearby table, camped out since he’d gotten off work at two. On days where his shift ended early he usually stopped by to make eyes at his boyfriend or (being even more sickening) pick up a shopping list or whatever smoopy-woopy domestic bliss the two had fallen into over the past months.

 

Gabriel would give it to the Winchester, he hadn’t thought anyone could cohabitate with his brother easily, but so far Dean had made no plans on moving, and Castiel hadn’t expressed any displeasure at the idea either. The Winchester abode was fresh on the market and Gabe just wanted them to give up the pretense altogether that Dean was ever going to move unless they did _together_. He’d have to give up living next to his baby-brother, but it was better than listening to them go at it night after night. The white-noise machine had helped, but he still _knew_.

 

“Yeah but he’s _my_ -“ God help him, his cheeks pinkened before he could spit ‘boyfriend’ back at Dean just for spite’s sake.

 

Sam had turned eighteen months ago while at college and Gabriel had given up all pretense that he was anything but a filthy old man lusting after a teen. He hated himself for being every male stereotype, and Dean hadn’t let him forget that for a moment. ‘Cradle-robber’ had been used liberally over the past months, but Gabriel had learned to tune it out, mostly.

 

Dean’s nose crinkled at the implication, a small scoff of disgust sounding as he slouched in his chair. “Yeah yeah, why not go out and buy a convertible and go ahead and get out that early mid-life crisis you’re working on there, grandpa?” Sometimes Gabriel wanted to smack the eldest Winchester’s snarky face, but Castiel would never let him hear the end of it.

 

“You and Sam are like four years apart, the age difference between me and Cas is only a little more than that!” Gabriel snipped, scrubbing the counter for the fourth time with a heavy hand.

 

 Dean cast eyes towards the kitchen door to see if he had the clear. “Getting a little defensive there Methuselah? Wouldn’t want your blood pressure to rise before your barely-legal gets here.” Dean knew he was being a little shit, but he felt like he had the right to exercise his big-brother card every now and then.

 

Gabriel aimed a poisonous look over the counter, “Big words when I have to hear you plowing _my_ baby brother every- Uh oh.” The two men snapped to attention as Castiel appeared in the kitchen doorway, brows tilted towards the bridge of his nose. Even with a powdery pink macaron bag in his hand, the younger Novak had an intimidating stare that let both men knew they were in trouble.

 

“I can hear both of you from the kitchen. Dean behave, your brother is an adult now and can make his own decisions. Gabriel, don’t be lewd and calm down, he’ll be here soon.” He chided with a soft huff, fixing them both with a warning stare before turning back off to finish his piping.

 

The bickering two shared another look and mutually decided to end things like four-year-olds and blow quiet raspberries at one another and accepting the forced truce.

 

The minutes ticked by, and eventually, Dean rose to walk into the back to hover over Castiel’s shoulder and swipe whatever fresh treats he could. Gabriel sighed, perching on the stool behind the counter to stare morosely at the door like Butterscotch did when he gated the dog in the bathroom to dry after a bath.

 

Behind him, Castiel’s radio wafted at a soft, but noticeable volume. The lyrics seeped into him, a small pout forming on his lips as he heard a small chuckle sound from his brother and a hushed conversation. He’d been subjected to their adorable couple cuteness for about as long as he could stand without sneaking superglue into Dean’s shampoo or dying Castiel’s baking frock tie-dye.

_Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you."_

_Birds singing in the sycamore tree_

_Dream a little dream of me_

If he was completely honest with himself, a lot of what Dean mentioned had crossed his mind and more. A couple years difference was no big deal, but over a decade and things started to get creepy when one of them was _eighteen_. Still, it wasn’t like he was one of those fifty-five-year-old freshly divorced assholes with a spray tan and a cherry red Corvette that dated blond eighteen-year-olds with daddy issues. There was _that_ at least.

 

He genuinely enjoyed talking to Sam. The kid- he flinched. He needed to stop referring to the young man he was going to be dating as ‘the kid’ all the time. That didn’t help his creep factor any. _Sam_ was intelligent and had a smile that lit up his entire face. Even if it had just been through skype calls and texts, Gabriel had valued the time he spent with him more than he had with anyone in years. The last real relationship he’d been in hadn’t ended well, and that was a spectacular understatement. What was brewing between him and Sam, he wanted to do right by. The whole shebang, which was why he already had dinner reservations for tomorrow night. They were skipping a few steps with Sam staying with him while he was home from college, but the teenager hadn’t wanted to stay at the other two’s and risk overhearing anything that would scar him for life. Dean hadn’t wanted to curb his sex life for a moment either, even if he’d griped about ‘sending his brother to the wolves.'

 

He didn’t know why Sam even wanted to date someone like him. Sam must be surrounded by young fresh faces at college and all the sexual freedom that came with it, but he _still_ wanted him. Gabriel couldn’t puzzle it out. He acted confident sure, but to him, Sam was somewhere above him where he shouldn’t be able to reach. He’d expected Sam’s crush to peter out on him even before he left for college, but here they were. A semester had gone by, snow was falling outside, and Gabriel had an eighteen-year-old as a boyfriend.

 

He’d wished they could have met him at the airport, but with Dean’s car in the shop for a few days and Cas having to fill a large order, Sam had insisted they all stay put. Bobby was fetching him, and Gabriel swore the next time he was going to be at the airport even if it killed him.

 

_Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you_

_Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you_

_But in your dreams whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me_

 

The repaired bell over the door sounded, startling Gabriel out of his thoughts and right off his stool.

 

“Space much?” He knew that voice well.

 

Gabriel popped back to his feet with a broad grin, taking in the teen that stepped into the shop. His long, floppy hair was plastered down on the sides of his face by a knit hat in his school colors, cheeks pink from the cold.   He’d filled out even more, all legs and shoulders. He looked properly grown up from the stretched-out youth Gabriel had first met over a year ago.

 

“Yeah well you know, I gotta get a Tv in here or something.”

 

Sam dropped his bags by the door, and in a few long strides of his legs, he moved to scoop his significantly smaller boyfriend up into his arms. Gabriel snickered and threw his arms around Sam’s neck and shoulders with a dramatic flair. Any further snarky commentary was swallowed up when Sam bent to kiss him, startling the older man into a blissful silence as their lips melded together, warm and soft.

 

“I waited a long time for that.” Sam looked down at his dazed lover, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

 

Behind them, Dean leaned in the doorway holding up his phone to snap a few pictures. “Gross. It’s like a moose trying to smooch a chipmunk.” He groused, trying to hide the small smile that threatened on his lips. As much as he griped, he liked seeing his baby brother happy for once, even if it was with Castiel’s annoying sibling.

 

Castiel nudged up behind him, laden with a freshly decorated ‘welcome home’ cake. “Dean stop being a brat and move.” He smirked fondly, leaning over briefly to plant a reassuring kiss on his lover’s cheek.  “Welcome back Sam.” He smiled as he moved into the café to set the cake down on the counter.

 

“Thanks, Cas, you didn’t have to do that!” The collegiate was a ball of energy, elated to be back with the three, especially the one rooted against his side.

 

“It was Dean’s idea.” Castiel grinned at the quiet huff of betrayal from the other Winchester as Dean stepped up to give Sam a firm hug.

 

 Self-conscious now that his doting had been found out, Dean gave a small shrug.” Yeah well, I’m proud of you is all. First semester down. More than any other Winchester ever did.” He reddened under the soft eyes he was getting from all sides, huffing once more.

 

Cooing, Gabriel leaned into Sam’s side.” Aww, Dean has been bragging left and right about his little brother, off to conquer the world one core-class at a time.” He teased, ducking as Dean took a half-hearted swipe at him.

 

Sam roped Gabriel back into his arms with a laugh, draping them about Gabriel’s shoulders to pull him close.” Thanks, Dean. I’m glad to be back for a bit.” Before they could break for cake and discuss what he’d been up to, Sam bent to plant another fond smooch against Gabriel’s cheek.

 

Groaning, Dean gripped over his stomach and play-hurled as the other couple smooched and shot each other doe-eyes right in front of them, as if he and Castiel hadn't been just as sickening five minutes before in the kitchen. His grand acting continued right up until a handful of fresh strawberries and cream cake smacked him in the face, stunning him into a slack-jawed silence.

 

Gabriel stood triumphant, fingers coated in cream and vanilla cake. Sam cackled above him, ducking his face against the back of Gabriel’s head in a vain attempt to hide the giggles.  
  


Dean’s chest swelled with a promise of murder, “Oh you little shit.” He growled, diving for a handful of his own and lobbing it before Castiel could bark at him to behave.

  
The shorter man squeaked and dove out of the way, which earned Sam the wad of confection splattering against the front of his coat instead. For a moment, the air went still as Dean stood with a thin apologetic smile. Sam’s eyes narrowed, and Dean had barely turned to retreat before cake struck the back of his head with a wet smack.

  
Cake flew, and the four were forced to pick between lover and brother. Castiel thought about ordering the fight to a standstill, but the moment Gabriel nailed him with a strawberry all thoughts of civility were lost. Minutes later the entire café floor and the counter were streaked with mounds of cake, and each Novak and Winchester sported a liberal coating and then some.  
  


Laughing, they slid to the floor, plucking at sodden shirts and flicking icing from their hair.  “This is going to get all over my car.” Gabriel snickered, leaning over to lick a stripe of icing from Sam’s cheek. “This does give me a _wonderful_ idea though.” He purred into his boyfriend’s ear, brows waggling suggestively.

 

“Watch it, or I’ll lob something worse than cake at you,” Dean warned with a scrunched face, desperate to will any burgeoning images from his head before he needed to break out the brain bleach.

 

Hesitating, he glanced at Cas, taking in his sugar-coated appearance. “…Not a bad idea though.” He mused with a grin, satisfied to earn a revolted groan out of the other two this time around.

 

 Castiel huffed a quiet laugh as he hoisted himself to his feet as carefully as he could manage to prevent slipping and sliding on frosting. “Come on, now we have to clean up before we can go home, _and_ I have to bake another cake.”

 

Everyone got to their feet, and despite the grumbling, mops and squeegees were dragged from the back closet. It was bitterly cold outside, and the snow would make getting back to the apartments hell, but for the time being the four were happy to slide around on their mess and flick each other with mop water while Castiel baked. All the while, the radio sang on, a warm melody threading into their buttercream coated revelry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more fic plans or to suggestion requests for WCiM one-shots go to my tumblr at :http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/  
> Update: Whoops. I didn't know there was a tab in tumblr that was checked that said only blogs I follow could message me. So SUPER sorry about that.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own Supernatural, duh, yada yada.  
> To follow my writing for updates, commissions, etc go to : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/


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